


Prison is a Marriage

by MiraNova23



Category: Tangled (2010), Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Borderline Personality Disorder, C-PTSD, Coercion, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Given the circumstance from the very start - Eugene is unable to consent to anything else, Inability to Consent, Manipulation, Marriage, Marriage Contracts, Married Couple, Married Sex, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Warfare, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Manipulation, Sexual Tension, Sexual Violence, Shotgun Wedding, There's plot and drama too I swear, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraNova23/pseuds/MiraNova23
Summary: What if Stalyan and Eugene did get married? Hook Foot never escaped, and Rapunzel never heard the re-engagement announcement.***Non-Con note: Given the circumstances, Eugene is blanketly unable to consent to anything.***





	1. There's More Sex in Prison

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:  
> While this is at least one step back from what you might see in, say, Game of Thrones, I will try to keep the warnings spelled out.
> 
> \- panic attacks  
> \- anxiety attacks  
> \- abuse  
> \- manipulation  
> \- coercion  
> \- emotional abuse  
> \- psychological abuse  
> \- sexual abuse  
> \- sexual manipulation  
> \- sexual coercion  
> \- sexual assault  
> \- non-consensual  
> \- inability to consent  
> \- domestic violence  
> \- C-PTSD  
> \- personality disorder

**A/N:** Hello! Well I’m late to _Aaaaangst_ Week but I’m here. In my defense, I thought at one point it was only Varian-centric, but no, he’s just super popular. So here’s a take from me about the extremely UNhealthy StalyanRider.  
  


* * *

 

_**  
Preface  
** _

This story takes place within the world of Tangled: The Series, now Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure. This follows a “What if” timeline involving the following from the Season 2 Premiere, “Beyond the Corona Walls.”  
  


Eugene, Lance, Shorty, and Hook Foot are captured by the Baron’s men. _Hook Foot does not escape, so he never alerts Rapunzel and Cassandra._ The Baron releases his venomous spider to bite Lance, blackmailing Eugene into marrying Stalyan in order to get the antivenom. _Rapunzel and Cassandra do not witness the Re-Engagement / Wedding Announcement. That night, Eugene and Stalyan are married.  
_

* * *

 

**  
Chapter 1  
** _There’s More Sex in Prison  
_

Eugene's labored breathing had become the norm again. This time the weight in his chest was heavier than ever, though he was fairly certain he had lost weight elsewhere; probably muscle. With the unnatural rhythm in his lungs, they were lucky when they got any air. Doing anything more was certainly out of the question. Untouched food was still laid out, somewhere over there, that once had even been hot, with chilled fresh fruit gone warm. The same as yesterday. And the day before. And everyday since...  
  


He still lay in bed, but not because it was a massive fixture outfitted with stark white 1500-count Egyptian cotton sheets, fluffy duck-down stuffed pillows, and thick tufted duvet with embossed white swirl texture. He did not feel any of it. Listlessly he lazed, turned on his side toward the wall, still completely undressed under the colorless mound. Through one of the few narrow windows, despite his blank stare, he could see the awful bright blue sky, if he wanted to, indicating it had been daylight out for many hours already. At the same time it felt like no time had passed at all, even without having slept last night. His life had frozen in time.  
  


Then again, it _felt_ like his 'old' life was an eternity ago. He brought his arms up to cross in front of his chest, and with his right thumb, rubbed his left palm as he brought both up to his mouth. He closed his eyes, and hummed the sad tune that still beat in his heart all the way through. Hopefully, he would get to sleep through the day again. Then he could have the night to himself, which, for what it was worth, felt suiting.  
  


“ _What once, was, mine...”_ he murmured the end of the song to himself. _This is all I have left to hope for? Sleeping?_ He sighed heavily, although his every breath lately was like a sigh. _I might as well be in a prison cell._ The pictures that played through his mind of his best friend, yet again, compared their situations, again. _They’re almost_ better off _than me, in a prison cell.  
_

Behind him, the solid wood bedroom door swung open, shooting a flinch through his already adrenaline-soaked body before he even consciously registered any of it. Servants opened the door more gently, so it had to be... _Stalyan.  
_

“Ugh, still in bed, _again,_ Flynn?! What is _the matter_ with you? I swear, you _never_ have any energy!”  
  


_Eugene._ He clenched his jaw. Yet he still kept his eyes closed, and tried to pretend he was asleep.  
  


“And awgh, _Flynn,_ you didn't eat _any_ of this?!” She sighed. “It's a _sin_ to waste, food, you know.”  
  


_Eugene. And since when do you care about sins?  
_

The heels clacked closer, all the way to the foot of the bed where they pointedly halted. “ _FLYNN!_ ” she screamed as loud as she could.  
  


_Eugene._ He did not budge, still counting on being taken for sleeping.  
  


Suddenly, all of him was hit at once with cold air, as she pulled the covers completely off of him.  
  


He shuddered and shivered, but scrambled to sitting upright, turning his legs to the side to cover himself from her. “HEY WHAT THE HELL!!!” He glowered at her.  
  


“GET UP!” She threw a pair of pants at him, which he used his arm to block from hitting his face. “You're being spoiled here and all you can do is lounge in bed being _pathetic!_ ”  
  


He felt his heart rate rise again, and jumbled words rushed to mind to defend himself, but lodged in his throat. All he could mumble out was a sarcastic, “Well good morning to you, too.”  
  


“Look at you!” she gestured, intent on continuing in her rage. “What are you _doing?_ ”  
  


“I WAS _sleeping,_ ” he snapped at her, as he pulled the pants on.  
  


“Ugh,” she scoffed again. “And when are you going to get _that_ off your face?”  
  


He stroked the faceful of scruff that he had spitefully neglected on his cheeks. Some parts were coming in nicely for a beard, but with barely grooming it, it mostly looked wild. “Oh, _I'm sorry,_ ” he played dumb and squinted his eyes at her, “I thought I remembered you _loved_ kissing guys with mustaches?” He did not notice his left fingers still fiddling again, still not completely accustomed to the metal in between them.  
  


“Pfft, yeah right.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she cocked her hips. “You've lost your memory along with your machismo.”  
  


He downright glared at her. “I haven't forgotten about _Brandon_.”  
  


She chuckled at him. “I told you, that didn't mean anything. Purely a _professional_ interaction.”  
  


“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “The world's _oldest_ profession.” He finally stood up, taking half a minute to steady himself and let his vision clear, thanks to his lack of eating or even being upright since he could not remember when. He busied himself with finding a shirt. He held up a blue one to the light.  
  


“You cheated on me, too, ya know. Don’t have to _still_ be upset over that. That was _yeeears_ ago.”  
  


The blue shirt was snatched out of his hands and tossed away. He dropped his shoulders and huffed at her. “And you don't get why I stay in bed.”  
  


“Ohhh,” she played along on his words. One hand slid up and over to grope his bicep, the other caressed his chest, while he tensed under the touch. “You want to _stay in bed?_ ” She chuckled suggestively.  
  


He lifted his face to the ceiling, teeth gritted and lips pursed. “ _Stalyan...!_ ” he tried to growl her name out threateningly. But her hand on his face startled him into looking back down at her. She smiled slyly, and grabbed him by the hips. “I thought you wanted me to get-” He stopped himself.  
  


“Up?” she laughed, expecting him to join in, as if it were friendly banter. He merely flared his nose in disgust at her, while she rolled her pelvis against his. Her hands moved back up his naked torso, to latch behind his neck, signaling him to lean down. He steeled his neck, flexing those and his trap muscles to keep his lips from her. Successfully discouraged, she stepped back, frowning, and dropped her petticoat, revealing her neck and shoulders. She began quickly unbuttoning her corset, as Eugene fired daggers into her eyes. She smirked devilishly, as the corset dropped to the floor and she whipped the undershirt off. His eyes never left her face. She stepped up to him and grabbed his reluctant wrists to place over her breasts. “Well, Rider?”  
  


His hardest-set face would never deter her, so he changed his strategy. He closed his eyes, and dove in. He purposely scraped his facial hair against her, as he nearly bit at her lips. She snickered as they fought over control of the kiss, but once Eugene got a hold of her tongue, he sucked as hard as he could, to cause as much pain as he could. His hands fought hers for their release, and won there, as well. However, he used his hands to gather up her skirt. He gripped her hips, and lifted her, pulling the kiss apart as she squealed at it. He tossed her onto the bed, and climbed over her, keeping her skirt turned up.  
  


She was rubbing under her jaw and working her tongue around strangely. “Fuck, Flynn, that-”  
  


“Shutchyer face,” he hissed. One hand gripped her throat. With the other, one finger snagged her panties aside, then all but his thumb sank in between her lips and went wild. _I hate that I know this all - that I know YOU this well._ He tried not to listen to himself, tried to let the Flynn mask hide his thoughts as well.  
  


She gasped, feeling herself getting wetter by the moment, spurred on by him executing her choking fetish just right. Still, nervous about all of their circumstances, she gripped his wrist with both hands, but all it changed was that she was reassured of how much stronger than she he still was. “Hoh... my goh...” she breathed.  
  


He concentrated on staring her down, and what he was doing. She started moaning, and he bit his own tongue to the side as he carefully played with her according to each sound she made. As soon as he recognized that she was on her way to an orgasm building, he stopped. He gave her throat one more shove down into the pillow and released her, and removed his hand from below, sure to wipe the mess from his hand with the outside of her black skirt. “There.”  
  


She caught her breath and laughed darkly at him as he stood up. “Tsk, tsk, Rider!” Her femme fatale tone kicked up an octave to play cute. “It's rude to leave unfinished business!”  
  


“Well maybe you should take your _business_ somewhere else,” he tried making his words cut right through her. “Maybe somewhere _you_ could actually satisfy a man for once.”  
  


She hmphed as she sat up. “ _Brandon_ had no problem getting _satisfied._ I think, it's all in your head, Sweetie.” She ran her fingers through his hair, much to his displeasure.  
  


He jerked his head away from her. “Are we done here?” he asked impatiently.  
  


“No,” she growled.  
  


He stuck a finger out in her face. “You said I had to marry you. Nobody said anything about either of us having to enjoy it.”  
  


“That's the point, Rider,” she said with all the sultriness just dripping off her words. She knelt up against his arm, and ran a hand over his chest. “To pay you back for all the pain and misery you've caused me all these years. Frankly, it’s the _least_ you deserve for how you hurt me.”  
  


For a moment of conscience, he leaned back against her. “Well, _like I have said_ , I know you were very hurt. I did that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I handled things.” Suddenly he shook his head and jumped to his feet to tower over her. “But then you're stuck right here in hell with me.”  
  


“Then _why on Earth_ did you ask me to marry you in the first place, Flynn?” she whined angrily.  
  


He threw his hands up to his head and then down again in frustration. “And again-- it's _Eugene!_ ” he shouted in her face.  
  


She stood as she replaced her undershirt and got right back in his face. “No, it's not,” she cooed.  
  


“Yes, it is!”  
  


“No it's _NOT!_ ”  
  


“ _YESITIS!!!_ ”  
  


Her hand sprang out so fast and slapped him so hard, that it took him a moment to realize he had been hit.  
  


He froze facing the new direction the force had turned him, as the familiar sting took over and his jaw trembled. He bit the inside of his cheek to recover.  
  


She merely stared him down, daring him to make one more show of defiance. “Get. Dressed. _...Flynn._ ”  
  


Finally, with glassy reddening eyes, he turned back to look at her, trying to control his bottom lip. Without turning his back to her or even taking his eyes off her, he stooped down and gently collected her corset and petticoat.  
  


“That's more like it,” she grinned as she held her hands out to accept the clothing.  
  


But Eugene switched back to exposing how seriously pissed off he was. He shoved the clothing into her chest, which she clutched in shock. He started walking towards her as he pushed her back, forcing her to walk backwards, towards the door. He reached past her to open it, so she could continue backstepping out to the hallway. At the last moment, though, he felt even this was too nice, and shoved her across the hallway. She hit the opposite wall and stumbled to the floor with a yelp. Stunned to say the least, she looked up to see the food cart also sailing toward her. It did not hit too hard, and bounced off her, before tipping over to the ground and scattering the food. As soon as she could peer over the tipped-over cart, she just caught Eugene slamming the door closed in a sweeping fashion.  
  


He still wanted to yell out and scream at her, but he had no words. Tears, though? Tears a-plenty were bubbling up fast. _Oh no no no no. No. This is BAD._ He ran his hands over his face, but they were just as hot. He rushed over to the basin on the dresser and wet a cloth to dab his face with. He forced a couple deep breaths through his lungs, and forced his mind to empty. _Next refuge? Lance.  
_

He went back to finding a shirt. He found a bold red one that seemed to match the color of Stalyan's corset, so he put it on. _She should like this one. Or at least not make fun of it._ He pulled brown boots on over black pants. Until something the right shade of teal turned up, this color combination would have to do. He fixed the deep V-neck, accented in mustard, and added his belt. In the back of his mind, he felt like something was not quite right with himself. A familiar something, but he could not put his finger on it. _This is your life now – No! I won't let this be my life! I will fight! – But, she's just gonna hurt me again..._ He returned to leaning over the basin, going back and forth between making a war face, and crumbling in the mirror.  
  


It had taken Stalyan a minute to quickly throw the corset and petticoat back over herself. She stomped back up to the door and tried the knob; locked. “Ugh! FLYNN!” Fists pounded on the door briefly. Finally, she fished the key out of her pocket, and unlocked the door. She flung it back open and let it smash a vase.  
  


Eugene’s head darted up, his full body betraying his skittish state. The panic resumed.  
  


Stalyan slowly marched back in, in a seething calm. Her voice was just below normal volume. “You know, you used to be a great partner. You _used to_ dream of a better life, a life like this, in even a modest sized castle. You were driven, wouldn't let anything stand in your way. Strong, commanding, quick-witted. You used to actually allow yourself to _enjoy_ life.”  
  


Eugene could only gawk at her, desperately focusing on breathing steadily, and desperately blocking out all she was saying.  
  


“What _happened_ , Flynn?” she whined. “I have missed you _so_ _much_ , but now,” she scoffed sadly, “ _Now?_ ” She sniffled, as if only she had the right to cry, then dramatically composed herself, “Look…” She stepped up, rubbing his arms in a comforting fashion. “I know,” she dipped her head in concession. “Thisss- _whole thing_ started out, _weird_. I know it’s been a big change for you. No one is asking you to take it in overnight. But believe me,” she took his hands, “You and me? Us, as a team again? Actually _with_ my father’s blessing and living here? It doesn’t get any better than this.” A sweet smile appeared on her lips.  
  


_Pfft, I know it’s ‘not gonna get any better,’_ he thought sourly. _But- hey, wait!_ He finally pulled his hands back, gaping at her in horror, but not really seeing her.  
  


Stalyan turned morose again and sighed. “You promised her that you would marry her, and she promised that you could be a prince? Right?”  
  


Eugene's chest sank, and he shook his head ever so slightly.  
  


“No?” she suggested, genuinely shocked.  
  


He realized he should speak up and answer her. He had danced around admitting the full truth to her til now. There were only so many battles he could fight at once, and he did not want to disguise this truth from himself any longer either. “N-no. We-” he took a big breath. “We were never engaged.”  
  


She smirked at the delicious news. “Then were they really ever going to let you be prince? If even _she_ wasn't committed to it?” Her expression looked like one of compassion. “Welllll, thennn, I guess I probably spared you the agony of rejection, and you're even still among nobility. You're _lucky_ to be here, Flynn.”  
  


_Eugene.  
_

“ _I'm_ lucky to have you back. _And_ ,” she chuckled, “Lucky my dad agreed with forgiving you.” She paused, watching him, waiting for a response.  
  


But Eugene just stood there staring back, waiting for a prompt he was required to answer a certain way. _DON’T let it get to you. Damn why DO I need to be so sensitive?!  
_

Stalyan continued on anyway. "Do you really think,” she shrugged, “The king would have allowed _you_ to be _officially_ _engaged_ even? To his newfound daughter?"  
  


_'If there's one man in this world I take very seriously, it's you.'_ Eugene whispered with barely the tiniest of croaks. " _Yes..._ "  
  


"And you _believe_ them? The man who was trying to get you hanged til you showed up with his daughter? Flynn, you know he had to just be tolerating you. He HAD to show you _some_ gratitude out of politeness for saving the princess. He’s a _king_ , running a _country_. That’s just one of the things that’s part of their _job_ ; making you believe everything’s alright even if the sky is falling down around you. It _used to be_ our job! _To_ _lie,_ in order to get what we had to. YOU used to be good at it, and at picking out when people were lying to you. So now tell me WHY, would he tell the whole truth, to a thief like you?”  
  


"No, he- he TRUSTED me-" _‘They- they did NOT do a very good job counting these rocks.’ ‘Do you think your dad lied?’_ His eyes widened.  
  


"You _believed_ he trusted you."  
  


He held his head up higher, to let gravity tilt the the last of his tears back into his sinuses.  
  


“So,” she shrugged sympathetically, “You’re not gonna be the next Prince. But you already _are_ the next Baron – lock, stock, and barrel.”  
  


Part of him balled up in a hole the size of his wedding ring and sat with that title crushing down on his head. The other part lashed out, quietly. “Any chance that _you're_ barren?”  
  


She was not amused, but still passive aggressively wistful, so she ignored his insult. “You can be that great _partner_ again. Because right now? I see _none_ of that.”  
  


_'Cause I'm not_ playing _Flynn Rider anymore!_ He narrowed his eyes.  
  


She smiled with sarcastic vitriol. “But _congratulations_. You _got dressed_ today.”  
  


“Can I go now?” he snapped before his brain could process anything else.  
  


“I'm not stopping you – well,” she snickered, “Not stopping you from your wandering aimlessly around the castle.”  
  


“I'm going to see Lance.”  
  


“Hm, good.”  
  


Eugene froze. “'Good?' What's- Why are you saying 'good' like that?”  
  


“So that you remember what you still have to lose, if you don't come to your senses soon.”  
  


He grimaced at her, and stormed out.  
  


* * *

 

Down in the dungeon, he walked right up to the cell he had memorized. “Hey there, stranger.”  
  


Shorty and Hook Foot were asleep, having become synced with Eugene’s usual waking hours.  
  


Lance looked up from where he was sitting in the best light from the tiny window, reading. “Ah-haaah, getting down here when the sun is still up? Ya know I was starting to think she'd turned you into a vampire.”  
  


“Hah, hah,” he teased, but was genuinely amused. “Vampires don't look so _dashing_ in mirrors.” He held his chin out and stroked it.  
  


Lance shook his head with a smile as he walked up to the bars. He already knew why his reflection-obsessed buddy was letting his hair go. They reached through the bars and embraced. “How ya holdin up?”  
  


Eugene backed up, but dropped the facade to reveal how miserable he was. He squeaked out a tiny, “Eh...”  
  


Lance shook his head again. He slid back down to the floor. He lowered his voice to their usual low range for talking about such things. “They're tryin to break you, ya know,” he nodded towards him.  
  


Eugene just cast his gaze away, and joined him on the floor. His lips quivered again, and his throat felt like it was closing up. He barely managed to choke out, “I'm scared that it's working.” He sniffled and lifted his face to the ceiling again. “It's been two weeks today.”  
  


Lance frowned for his friend. “Ya know, I hate to say this, but if they went home, we're less than a week away...”  
  


_So they should have been back already._ “I know,” he squeaked again.  
  


Lance looked away and rubbed his neck, regretful. “Maybe you shouldn't've-”  
  


Eugene coughed to interrupt him. “Nonsense. Don't say that.”  
  


A tiny smile turned the corners of his mouth ever so slightly upward every time he reassured him.  
  


Eugene tried to compose himself, genuinely calmed down a bit. “You're worth it. Whatever shit I gotta go through here, you're worth it. And, at least we're not alone.” He tried to give him a smile.  
  


“Thanks, Eugene.”  
  


“Anything for you, man.” Eugene perked up the slightest bit, glad his sacrifice was not in vain, so long as his best friend was still alive. With that topic spent for today, though, there was only one other thing Eugene was bursting to gush about. “Ummm, so, what are you reading?”  
  


“The Crucible.” He shrugged.  
  


Eugene's face immediately quirked. He turned and examined the book _s_ he was holding more carefully. He smiled slyly. “Uh-huh. And _inside_ of that?”  
  


Lance grinned, holding up the set of books. “The Count of Monte Cristo!”  
  


They laughed together, but then fell back to a comfortable silence. Lance resumed reading, and Eugene tried to doze off where he sat against the wall. But, his mind would not let him go. He could not help but start through the whole thing yet again. “Do you think she misses me?”  
  


Lance sighed, but knew they had nothing else to talk about besides this and speculation about this. “ _I_ think she does. Look how crazy she went over losing the frog.”  
  


“Chameleon.” Eugene smirked wistfully. He knew how badly he even missed Pascal's supportive smiles and cute antics.  
  


“Nuance.”  
  


They both chuckled. He remembered her face from that night. _'I'llll get my boots.'_ A smile spread across his face without him realizing. He eventually sighed again, though. “I just wish I knew what to make of our last conversation...” He had said 'last conversation' enough times over the past two weeks that it had lost its punch and had just become a fact.  
  


“Eugene, we tried tellin ya, and you've been _in it_ for two weeks already. Don't you get it yet? That marriage is just another form of prison? Another form of entrapment, another form of keeping somebody all to yourself. In other words, it’s all about power, and control, and status.”  
  


In his tiniest voice, Eugene whispered, “It shouldn't be...” He bit his lip and shook his head. “But, regardless of whatever the world may think a 'marriage' should be, I know what I wanted for us, and that was _not_ it.”  
  


Lance shrugged. “Aaand regardless of what _you_ think,” he repeated, “The princess needs an official ' _marr-ahge_.'”  
  


“ _She's_ the one in the royal bloodline,” Eugene thrust his hand out to emphasize. “ _She_ would still retain all the power anyway. Maybe if she wasn't the next ruler, we could debate this, but she _is_ the next ruler. So it doesn't matter that I'm the guy. I can't very well 'take freedom away' from someone who will always outrank me.” He dropped his head back against the stone wall. “Believe me, if I could, I wouldn't be stuck here. Same situation; Stalyan’s the heir. Just worse conditions for me.  
  


“But,” Eugene tilted his head in thought, “Royal or not, I would never _want_ to take her freedom away. I _died_ for her to have it. And I did what I could this past year for her to at least _feel_ as free as possible. Even stood up to the scariest, most intimidating man in my life.”  
  


Lance raised a brow at him. “You don't find the Baron at least a little intimidating?”  
  


“I don't _care_ what the Baron _thinks_ of me. The King, I do.” He shook his head. “I owe him my life, and he's the closest I'll ever get to a father. But, it's _me_ who was _looking out for_ her freedom. I know how precious it is to her. I wanted a commitment of _love,_ not a sacrifice of _freedom..._ ”  
  


“Listen, man, I know you love her. And you two _did_ have a great relationship. I know you wanted the best for her. I'm not sayin you shouldn't have wanted to marry her. _Not to mention, livin in the castle was great!_ But, what I was trying to say is, she's too new to the world. She needs time to adjust, and to really be able to trust you. I know you say you do trust each other, but you two clearly still have your own issues. Hers is trusting someone to get that close, _officially._ It's gonna be a big, _permanent,_ _change_ for her. ”  
  


Eugene was still lost in his own thoughts, hardly hearing him. _...I really did all that this past year?_ “Lance?”  
  


“Yeah, Eugene?”  
  


He tensed up, leaning back on his hands, staring into the dirt floor, and gulped. “I feel like I’m not _Me_ anymore...”  
  
  


* * *

 

 **A/N:** Not a one-shot. Mwahaha. What do you think so far?  
  


_Follow me at MiraNova23 on tumblr!_

 


	2. ! Non-Con Notice !

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notice regarding actual Chapter 2: Sentenced for Life

!!! Non-Con Notice !!!

**tl;dr = I have been sure to edit it to not be romanticized or sensationalized.**

**It is nowhere near as explicit as you may have seen me write elsewhere.**

The  **_Disney-canon_ ** nature of Stalyan and Eugene’s relationship dynamic, at very least during Beyond the Corona Walls, is non-consensual. There’s assault/battery, threats, manipulation, coercion, and general abuse, but those things are not new themes to Tangled. The core  _ drama  _ here though, is many of the characters relying on the false assumption that since Eugene said he wanted to ‘get married’ way back when, then he must still want it. That’s… big. And very important.

The show is PG, but we’re adults, and fanfiction is self-indulgent exploration, so let’s take “get married” for all it includes, like  _ a wedding night. _

The episode itself didn’t leave me  _ as _ shaken as watching Gothel and Rapunzel’s relationship for the first time. There, literally every line was basically a trigger and gave me a visceral reaction. Rapid fluttering heartbeat, raised arm and neck hairs, and hypervigilant listening expecting a  _ dead _ woman to walk by my room any moment,  _ on top of _ the worst fight ever that had just happened with me and my dad (Hunny’s arm circulation didn’t stand a chance) - All by the time their scene was  _ halfway _ through. It hits you pretty fast the first time through, especially if you’ve experienced it all in real life before. 

Anyway, no, Stalyan’s abuse and Eugene’s reaction did not shock me in the episode, but has me shocked by my  _ own _ freewriting on it. Now, I have never really experienced  _ sexual _ manipulation or coercion, and the closest instance of sexual assault, I won by out-drinking the guy, spooking him, and hurting his hand so bad he was still nursing it when he stormed out defeated. I say “freewriting” because, while it’s always good for fleshing things out for your own mind, I had been questioning how much to actually include and/or show in the published version. I’d been googling a lot, and now I… I have even more feelings and opinions about it all. I mean, I’ve  _ read _ non-con shock-smut before, but I don’t want to write it so gratuitously that it’s not serious, or for  _ that  _ part to be salacious. 

Everyone knows how the #MeToo movement has been inclusive of male victims, but the response to men speaking out about it has been the same as ever:  _ They got lucky. A woman forcing a man to penetrate her cannot be rape. Marriage is consent to sex. Men always want sex. Drinking makes it a female victim’s fault, but being drunk or even drugged still can’t make men vulnerable to rape, especially by women, cuz women can’t rape men. If you consented once, you’ve consented for life. Said Yes once, means Yes always. Reputation makes a No just playing hard to get. Getting hard or wet means you want it. Orgasming means you liked it. _ \-- Obviously none of that is true.

Now, I have the AO3 warning for Rape/Non-Con checked off already, because my story's premise is that Stalyan succeeds in forcing Eugene to marry her. Given the circumstances of holding Lance & co. hostage to control Eugene, that means that he is unable to consent to  _ anything _ , like said marriage _. _ He explicitly and repeatedly voices how he does not want to marry Stalyan, but he goes through with it because he is forced to. He’ll do a lot of things, none of which he wants, but he never had any ability to consent in the first place. Basically  _ everything _ he does, even in the episode, is without his own consent, right down to just  _ being  _ there. So, no matter what, that box will stay ticked and applicable to every chapter. The episode itself as-is shows non-con.

But in writing a scene illustrating a flashback to the wedding  _ night _ , and every  _ night _ since, I’ll be the one to decide how graphic it gets, how sensationally it is written or not, and what he even remembers. So, I did some research.

For research, I read a lot of personal stories from female-on-male rape victims for perspective. I’ve taken nothing directly from those stories. In sympathy/compassion, I kept thinking,  _ Ok, now I’ve heard it from yet another guy in his own words - I should tone it down cuz this is awful. _ I could just skip over the whole night and black him out for everything, but I wrote it out anyway. I was just unsure if it was going to get cut.

Then, I added “reddit” to the google search, and I found so many, many, many more. Usually it’s the men not taking  _ themselves _ seriously. Some fully give in to believing those apologists’ excuses. And they say how so many people in their lives write it off just the same. At least the responses on reddit are reassuring them it was _ real _ and it was wrong.

So, I decided to not cut it. Also, I normally, subconsciously now, try to write in [ways appealing to senses](https://www.fuseliterary.com/2017/03/17/tips-to-use-your-five-senses-when-writing/), but **I have been sure to edit it to not be romanticized or sensationalized. It is nowhere near as explicit as you may have seen me write elsewhere. The juicy bittersweet is supposed to be from New Dream pining, not** ** _this._** I just wanted to be clear and explain this, and why I’m still publishing such a thing. Cuz maybe somebody _needs_ to read it.


	3. Sentenced for Life

**A/N:** _*deep breath*_ So this is what the worst warnings are for. If you haven’t read my notice thing, you can read it before or after. There’s no spoilers, other than the already implied and aforementioned warnings of non-con. Again, no spoilers, but if you want a quicker run-down: The first ⅔ is the emotional and psychological abuse relationship type things, and the next-to last section is _the_ non-con scene. The very last section is just stream of consciousness.

I’m also going to publish the backstory part as a standalone oneshot, as “The Stalyan Issue,” since that can just live on its own, and with fewer warnings and a slightly lower rating.

I always wish people to “Enjoy,” but for this, I understand that _enjoyment_ may not best describe the feelings evoked. So I suppose it’s more like, I hope you hate it. Thanks for taking a chance on this new territory with me, and please review & comment! --oh! And I hope ya like Chuck, cuz I do, and I have seized every opportunity to be self-indulgent with quoting Zac, and at long last, _Yvonne._

* * *

**\- Chapter 2 -**

**Sentenced for Life**

 

10 Years Ago

Cool and steady with a sly grin, Eugene crept around the outside of the huge stone building; a small castle, really. It was midnight, with no moonlight to reflect back off of his exposed hairless face and arms or his long white shirt sleeves. Brown hair, just past shoulder length, was tied back out of the way. His front-laced teal vest blended in with the darkest blue of the night; brown pants with the dirt and sandstone of the stone. Well-worn but maintained, earthy leather boots were silent as he eased each foot through the soft grass. Although, if he were to get caught, it would only serve to stroke his ego and hubris. After all, it was no fun if there was no challenge, and no glory if no one knew it was him.

He had memorized the map depicting where the _alleged_ treasure-trove cellar, of the crime family patriarch known only as The Baron, was located, and how to get into it. The only worrisome thing left was that the guards did not seem to be following their usual patrols, but instead seemed to be actively looking for something, and seemed to know exactly what they were looking for. Eugene kept a close eye on them, but they had not noticed anything that would pose a threat to impeding him in his quest.

Suddenly, the guards became alerted to a disturbance, right where Eugene had been aiming to get inside. It was a hidden set of steep steps leading down to well-disguised door. Now, however, there was light pouring out of it and guards running directly toward it. _Aw, nuts… Did someone really JUST BARELY beat me to it?!_

Calling a tactful retreat for the night, Eugene turned around to head back the opposite direction. He carefully timed his sprints according to the calamity around the door and other guards rushing to help. One was about to be running too close to a line of sight with him, so he quickly looked around for anything to use for cover. The large shed he was crouched against had an ajar door he should be able to slip in undetected, and he did just that, just in time. He closed the door behind him, and bolted the small lock. In a minute, he should be able to slip back out and continue on his way.

“ _What?!_ ” a feminine voice behind him hissed. “Who are _you?!_ ”

His face quirked in utter confusion as he slowly turned around. In the pitch dark, he could not see even his hand in front of his face. “Can I help you?” he whispered rather sarcastically to the other voice. “Uhhh _Miss?_ What are you _doing_ in here?”

“What am _I_ doing in here? What are _you_ doing in here?!”

“I’m-” He had not expected to be caught by someone who had no idea of his nefarious intentions. He still had a shot at playing innocent. “I’m uh- gardener. Yeah, uh, hah, I broke a few of my tools earlier today, and I wanted to get them fixed up before tomorrow.”

“A gardener? Really?”

“Yeah,” Eugene softly laughed off the mocking he suspected. “I know, silly me. And I- hah, I don’t know _where_ my lantern is.”

The woman scoffed. “Good thing for that.”

Eugene smirked. The woman sounded young, and his mind was keen to leap to what they could do together in the dark. “Ohhh, yeah?” he purred, “And why’s that?”

“Because this is a weapons shed.”

Eugene gulped. “Oh…” he nervously lost his voice, still trying to laugh it off. “Whoops, heh, I get these sheds mixed up sometimes. Uh, what kind of, weapons? The uh- the _pointy_ kind?”

“ _And_ gunpowder and explosives.”

He took a step back towards the door, dilated eyes futilely searching in the dark, trying to see, and hoping _not_ to see any spark of light. “Then _really,_ what are you doing here? Who are you?”

“You- you don’t know who I am?”

 _Oh, shit. Some girl_ I _should know?!_ He cleared his throat. “Well, Darlin’, I never forget a face, but I can’t quite see your lovely _anything_ in here.” _I’m usually good with voices, too, but…?_

She hummed at him, intrigued. “Well, then all you need to know is I’m running away.”

Again, he was taken aback as the answers she gave only led to more questions for him. “Running away? From who?”

“Ugh, will you shut up?! We’re supposed to be hiding!” she hissed a little louder than was wise.

Calls for men to check out the weapons shed were shouted about, and they both groaned. Then, in unison to each other, shot out an annoyed declaration. “They’re after me-” They froze. “They’re after you-?!”

The mysterious woman finally stepped up close enough to Eugene for him to audibly approximate her presence; right in front of his chest. Their exchange quickened as they heard the guards nearing. “Listen, my father is the Baron.”

“ _You’re_ the _Baron’s_ daughter?!”

She scoffed. “ _Yes…_ He’s just super over-protective.”

All Eugene heard was a beautiful challenge, and his imagination was already well on its way to weaving this wrong-side-of-the-tracks story, wrought with forbidden love, ending with him whisking her off into the sunset. Although, after that victory, the story ended abruptly. “Well, given your hobbies of hiding out in weapons sheds, I can’t say I blame him.So but wait, you don’t know who _I_ am?”

“Thought you were a _gardener?_ ” she said sarcastically.

“The _name’s_ Flynn Rider.”

“Stalyan.”

“Heh, well, I don’t mean to toot my own-”

“ _My_ _name_ is Stalyan.”

Internally, he had to laugh. _What’s your mother’s name? Mustang?!_ But he simply smouldered in her direction, even in the dark. “So, _Stalyan,_ if you’re running away from your dad, why are you hiding out in this shed?”

Suddenly, someone tugged on the locked door. _“Why is this door locked?!”_ their nasally voice cried in frustration.

Eugene gulped. “Or better yet, will you tell your dad that I’m-”

“A gardener,” she finished, nodding. She, too, sounded scared, but ready and willing to join forces.

“Right,” he nodded too. “And you’re?”

Outside, someone called for tools to get the door opened.

Flustered and cornered, she gasped, “Gimme a kiss.”

Eugene blanched. “Wait, I’m sorry, _what?!_ Right now? I can’t even _see_ you! How am I supposed to-”

“Flynn!” she hissed and demanded again, “Kiss me now!”

Every red flag went off in Eugene’s head, but also painted his cheeks red. _I know what she’s thinking, but if she’s_ the Baron’s _daughter- do I reeeally wanna get involved?!_ He stuttered out an awkward lie, “I-I’m not really good with _PDA-_ ” Besides the commotion outside, Eugene could have sworn he heard fabric rustling and some kind of clasps or buttons popping. “What- What’re you doing?”

She answered him by grabbing the neckline of his shirt and sweeping his legs out from beneath him. “ _WHOA_ _~UH_ _!_ ” he yelled out as he felt himself falling and smacking the hard dirt flat on his back. The fluid motion was executed perfectly to leave her straddling him on the ground. The next thing he knew, her lips were interlocked with his. Her hands rested one propping herself up on his chest, the other behind his neck.

It was the first time both his brain and body forgot he was even on a mission.

The door opened to remind him of their surroundings. Exposed by torchlight, the bystanders collectively groaned.

“ _Welllll,_ ” a thin weaselly man dressed in black drew out in a slimy British accent. “Girl on top, hm. With you, Dear, I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

Stalyan put on a sheepish face and hesitatingly looked up from being pressed against Eugene’s face. “ _Hi,_ Anthony,” she said with innocent familiarity. She knelt up and sat back on him.

Eugene’s eyes fluttered into focus, hands up beside his head, looking up at the beauty hovering above him, backlit by the torches. Long soft curls looked brunette in the dark, and her slender face looked adorably embarrassed. He had already felt how lush her lips were. Her eyes looked dark and smoky, and while he could not tell their color, the gleam of the torch fire in her eyes was entrancing enough. Her weight was comfortably planted on his pelvis, her flowing red skirt bunched up around her knees, draped over his torso. He spotted what he had heard before: a black jacket discarded, and a white barmaid blouse unbuttoned down between her breasts all the way to the underbust cincher or bustier. His lips remained parted as his mouth had simply fallen open.

“MISS Stalyan,” Anthony scolded exasperatedly. “When your _father_ hears about your latest stunt, I doubt he will take kindly to hearing about additional exploits with your boy toy.”

She blushed and dipped her head toward the crowd of men. They shook their heads and sighed as they dispersed back to their posts and other duties. Anthony gripped Stalyan’s arm and hauled her to her feet as she grunted. Once she was standing firm, she whipped her arm away. She reached out toward Eugene on the ground. “My jacket.”

“Huh? Oh!” He sat up and handed her the long jacket, while his hungry eyes watched her fix the short skirt.

“Thanks.”

Anthony handed her his torch and glared hard at her, but then let them be as he began to head back to a castle entrance.

Eugene stood up and dusted himself off. He darted his head around, checking that they were out of earshot again, then turned back to her.

“Sorry,” she cringed, “I had to act fast.”

“You mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on here?”

She sighed as her shoulders fell. “Like I said, I was _trying_ to run away.” She looked back into the darkness of the shed, squinting.

Eugene’s brow quirked. “But your father’s the _Baron._ Why would you want to run away?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes with a smug smirk. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Slick cockiness came over his expression. “Nah, try me.”

“Well,” she drew out seductively as she leaned in again. “It’s a _long_ story.”

“I got time,” Eugene shrugged and dipped his head to her.

Stalyan sighed, getting aggravated. “What did you say your name was?”

Eugene hmphed, offended that she had so easily forgotten. “Flynn Rider.”

She held the torch up closer, evenly between them. Suddenly, she scoffed, pleasantly surprised. “ _You’re_ Flynn Rider?”

“The one and only. Pleasure to be met.” He cockily crossed his arms in front of himself.

“Mmm _well,_ ” her tune changed. “The _pleasure_ is all _mine._ I’ve gotta hand it to ya, you’re _awfully_ more handsome in person. How old are you exactly?”

Eugene actually deflated a little, and self-consciously touched his nose. “17, but yeah, the posters don’t do me _any_ ‘justice.’” She chuckled flirtatiously again, but as Eugene had his head slightly turned down, and with her holding the torch up better, something in the darkness of the shed glinted and caught his eye. He forgot about his nose and his full attention redirected toward the glitter. “What is that?” He turned back to Stalyan.

Suddenly she was frowning and glaring at him strangely.

He narrowed a glare right back at her, with a knowing smirk. “Why you _sly_ little _bête noire!_ You-”

“Do you wanna go up to my room?” she aggressively interrupted him, as directly as she could.

Eugene conspicuously bit his lip as he grinned but shook his head in delicious disbelief. “ _Ab-so-lutely._ ”

Her smirk returned. “We’ll come back for that _tomorrow morning,_ ” she winked. She took his hand and led him to the door Anthony waited for them at.

“Anthony,” Stalyan directed, “This is Flynn Rider. My, uh, _guest._ ”

Eugene gave him a shit-eating grin, and donned a British accent to mimic his. “Aye, there, _Tony,_ ol’ chap _._ ” He dipped his head to him. “Lovely night.”

Anthony threateningly smiled back at him. “That’ll be Mr. DeWesel to you.”

“Doesn’t that just mean _The Weasel?_ I mean,” he chuckled, misplacing the accent by the end, “Huh, I mean am I _right?_ ”

“Hm,” he set his jaw at him. “Miss Stalyan, see that you keep this one in line.”

She sighed, while smirking approvingly at her new catch. “Don’t worry, Anthony.”

“Cheerio!” Eugene saluted him with two fingers, before Stalyan yanked him away.

* * *

_This is the story of the best night of my life…!_

As soon as they entered a stairwell, Eugene turned their walking handsyness into swinging her around against a wall. He pressed himself up against her, including his lips all over hers again. “Talk to me baby girl,” he stole some more licks on her neck and around her ear. One hand was already massaging a breast. “You not gonna get me in trouble with daddy, are you?”

Her devilish grin was in heaven. “Not if you’ll help me get into some _trouble._ ” She grabbed his larger belt buckle.

He instinctively grabbed her wrist. “All well and good Sweet, but I didn’t get to be an expert by letting people steal from _me._ ” It was the belt his change purse was attached to.

She hmphed, but purred, “Lower then?” as her hand illustrated.

He smirked with his mouth still open, drifting back in toward her face. He leaned into her, making her feel him pulse for her. “You’re _not_ a virgin, are you?”

“Please, don’t insult me,” she threw her hair back and side-eyed him playfully.

They smirked at each other before crashing back together and rolling over so Eugene’s back was against the wall, still feeling each other up. Suddenly, she pushed off and pranced up a few steps, dragging him by the arm behind her. He was all too happy to trip up the stairs after her.

A couple stories and hallways later, she opened a door she had him pushed up against. They stumbled in, Stalyan walking Eugene backwards. Connected by tongues and exploring hands, they spun, until she shoved him onto the bed. He yelled out a bit, but caught himself on his elbows, while his legs flew wide.

“Ah, you might wanna,” he pointed to the knot in the cord lacing his vest in front, “Get that first.” He cocked his eyebrows as she considered him.

“That’s okay,” she said mysteriously. Eugene watched with wide eyes as she swung one high-heeled boot up onto the bed, right between his legs. Her skirt slid down her thigh back toward her waist, giving him a double show. Out of the knee-high black leather boot, she pulled a knife.

“Whoa- hoh!” He flinched away from her, but otherwise froze, barely breathing. “Hey- hey-”

Stalyan merely smirked at him, then slid it up the criss-crossed cords laced across his chest. They each snapped upon contact with the sharp blade, leaving the panels of his vest to fall to his sides.

Once the false alarm was quelled, he huffed a laugh. “That’s- _awesome_ ,” he said with an impressed smile, “Aaand a _little_ disturbing…”

She nodded as she stepped back and unhooked her own underbust bustier and dropped it. “I’ve got some _naughty_ moves of my own.” He bit his lip and she smiled deliciously. She gripped his thighs and pushed them together, so her knees could slink back onto the bed, straddling him. Slowly, she descended upon his lips again, as he waited, watching her approach.

Hands were set free to wander once more, as Stalyan shifted to laying rightways on her bed, on her back. She leaned back on her elbows and pulled one leg up, tossed her loose hair around and crooked her finger to beckon him.

By the candlelight, she watched him pull off his white shirt. Tanned chest and six-pack abs cast their own soft shadows across themselves. Painstakingly slowly, he removed his belt and opened his pants. He leaned over her, on thick sinewy arms. Flexors and triceps and deltoids all tweaked, each with their own allure, controlling his own full weight like it was nothing. She missed the show rippling through his strapping back.

He pulled her to sit up beneath him as he kneeled above her. They watched each other’s chests as he unbuttoned her white barmaid top, and she ran her hands over him. He whipped it off of her as soon as possible, then dove to cupping one freed breast and thumbing the nipple, as his face fed on the other. His other arm braced her back as Stalyan threw her head back and moaned out. She had found a man who could tell exactly what she wanted, and who she could _tell_ to _do_ exactly what she wanted.

She suddenly flipped Eugene onto his back without breaking the deep kiss, while pinning his wrists above his shoulders. His fingers wriggled and the corners of his lips curled into a smile. She ground on him, feeling him fully ready and gyrating back to meet her. She crawled backwards, her mouth blazing a trail of kisses with no strings attached all the way down his body as he panted. At his waistline, she set to removing his opened pants, as he helped. Very soon they were gone, and she was already getting acquainted. His hands played in her hair as he moaned at her taking control of him. She pushed his hands away, took one big suck off of his tip, then tried a command. “Arms above your head.”

Eugene flopped them up into grabbing at the plump feather pillows surrounding his head as he writhed and stretched at the sensations.

Stalyan grinned, then decided to reinforce it. She took one long lick up the entire underside of his length.

He moaned out some more, threw his head back and squirmed, but he kept his arms put.

She continued, but eventually, he did reach and grab at her neck. He was done with that foreplay, but she had other plans.

“Lemme get you,” Eugene offered.

“No,” Stalyan answered, sweet and confident.

He blinked a double take. “Oh, well, uh, okay.” He leaned away, unsure of what to do.

She cleared up any confusion when she climbed back onto him. She sank right down on him like a saddle, with smiles and moans all around, each crying out at their own individual pleasure. Together like that, they rode on to the sunrise, all night long.

* * *

“Flynnnn...” Stalyan leaned on his arm, kissing his shoulder and playing with his hair. “Flynn.”

Eugene felt his arm jostled hard, but he smiled, recalling the previous nights events that led to him now sleeping on cloud 9 here, instead of the ground. “Huh?”

“Wake up,” she whined.

“I’m awake, I’m awake.” Eyes closed, he rolled back over and shoved his face deep in the fluffy feather pillow, grinning ear to ear.

“My dad wants to see you.”

His eyes popped open and arms popped him up off the bed. But his legs got tangled, wrapped in the sheet, and instead of hopping out of bed, he fell to the floor; legs still held up by the sheet.

Stalyan covered her mouth as she laughed at him.

* * *

Eugene stood at attention in the Baron’s office, arms behind his back, nervously staring yesterday’s target in the face. His peasant shirt hung loosely around him, and she had replaced the cord for his ruined vest. He cleared his throat, bittersweetly aware of the tingle left in his skin as he did so, from the bruises and bites and scratches left all over his neck and chest. Stalyan had swiped a cravat off of someone for him. The pale green and poor material matched the quality of the rest of his outfit. Tied _a la Byron_ , it covered any marks, allowing his face to remain at least appearing stern and coolly confident.

“Flynn Rider. We’ve been following your success thus far, and my daughter thinks you’re quite, _skilled._ ” The Baron pressed his fingertips together. “So, tell me. What is it you want?”

“Existentially?” He shot him a cocky look and shrugged. “Like acceptance, pride, that sort of thing? Or are we talking more practically, like money, private island?”

“Your, _career._ ” He smiled sinisterly. “How do you plan to achieve any of that with what you’re running around doing?” He huffed at him. “At your rate, how long do you reckon that’ll take? 5 years? 10 years?”

Eugene frowned. “We’re doing just fine, _thanks._ Even if it does take 10 years, just you wait and see where I am then.”

The Baron seemed strangely more pleased than before. “You’ll be dead before that.”

Eugene was taken aback, insulted.

“And who’s _‘we?’_ ”

“Ah,” he blinked, quickly processing. _Looks like a good chance for us, Lance! Here’s hopin’ you agree!_ “My partner.”

“Hm. Anyway,” the Baron reasoned, tossing his hands up and apart, “I do, however, have openings to take you onboard, working under Anthony. Now, do you, and perhaps your partner, want the opportunity to work with the largest _network_ , in the Seven Kingdoms? Or are you going to walk away, leaving me _worried_ about you running your mouth?”

Eugene turned shocked at the seemingly quick offer, and understood the alternative to agreeing, but was sold wholeheartedly. “I do, I do” he jumped to answering. He smirked, and dipped his head in respect. “I’m sorry, Sir. I absolutely do.”

“Well then,” The Baron smiled approvingly, “Your turn to show me what you can do.”

Eugene beamed with pride and ambition. He looked over to a smug Stalyan standing off to the side.

* * *

Stalyan slinked up to him, and ran her hands over his head, locking them behind his head. She leaned down to kiss him, and suddenly they were both devouring each other. “Ya know,” she whispered in between nipping on his ear, “You should cut your hair.”

“What?” Eugene wiggled away a bit to look at her. “Why?”

“And shave,” she chuckled, scratching at his heavy 5 o’clock shadow.

“Not all of it, though.” He ran his fingers over it down to the tip of his chin. “I’ve been thinking the smooth baby face makes me look too young…”

She shrugged, trying to look as cute as can be. “I just think you’d look better with short hair, smooth cheeks.”

“I _have_ been thinking about what my look should be, for when I really become famous. Or _infamous,_ I should say.”

“Aren’t thieves supposed to _not_ make themselves known?” she snarked.

“Well, I mean, what’s the point of being the best if nobody knows about it?”

“You know.” She smiled at him, slightly distracted as she fixed his cravat. Then she tugged on it as she rose up to her tiptoes, almost reaching his lips. “And so do I.”

He smiled appreciatively at her, but his disappointment still shone through. _But that’s not enough._

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Okay, well, IF _Flynn Rider_ wants to be an ‘infamous icon,’ he’s gotta look the part.” She smiled seductively at him.

His crooked smile popped up. “Alright. But then some schmucko’s gonna have to make all new posters- although maybe that’s a good thing!” He giggled as they leaned back in to kiss again, but he teasingly pulled away at the last moment. “IF you can hook me up with new duds.”

“Done,” she waved it away.

“Except boots. Got these off this great cobbler in Corona, and-” She stole a kiss anyway. “They’re-” She stole another one, and Eugene finally could not resist. “ _Hmumm…_ ”

* * *

“ _Ehhh?_ Eh? What do you think?” Eugene turned around for Lance, but as he did, his new bangs bounced over an eye. He paused and whipped his comb out of his brand new, bright teal leather doublet, and combed them directly back into the rest of his hair. Uncertain, he checked his reflection in a store window, and panicked at the funky pompadour that had given him. He quickly brushed them back down with his fingers. “ _These_ are gonna take some getting used to.” He jutted out his bottom lip and blew them up and away.

Lance held his chin as he considered his best friend’s new look. “Certainly screams _lethario._ ” He dipped his head and shrugged. “And it _does_ look more like what they describe Flynn Rider as wearing by book two.”

Eugene elbowed his side.

“ _Oof,_ ” Lance coughed, annoyed. “Yeah, yeah, looks good.”

Eugene eyed him carefully, then went back to checking the symmetry on what was left of his facial hair: a goatee and pencil thin mustache. He smirked and smouldered at his reflection, moving his lips around specifically to see how they reacted. “Yeah, _damn_ I look good!”

“So who’s this _giiirl?_ ” Lance waggled his eyebrows.

“All courtesy of M’Lady, daughter of the big daddy-o himself, _thee_ Baron. And IS she a big daddy’s girl, heh. Her _name_ is actually ‘Stalyan.’”

“Stalyan?” Under his breath though, he muttered to himself, “ _So that’s where you ran off to while I was stuck in a tree playing look-out._ ”

Eugene huffed with him and lowered his voice. “Yeah, I know, right? Maybe _she_ should get an alias.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “And we thought ours were bad. So why so taken? Finally found yourself a brunette?”

“Not quite. Auburn.” He shrugged, “Least not a dumb blonde.”

“No, no, but her _father_ is the absolute bottom-feeding scum of the earth, so did you ever think maybe _you_ were dumb for getting us _both_ involved?”

Eugene just rolled his eyes and smirked, confident things were finally starting to go right. “ _Cam’on,_ we’re gonna be livin’ the dream!”

“Only reason _you’re_ okay with it is ‘cause of _her._ ” Lance sighed. “But just remember, if she’s payin’ for you, she wants somethin’ from you.”

“Oh, I think I know what she _wants_ from ME.” Hands on his hips, he cocked them.

Lance gave him a worried look, urging caution.

Eugene waved his comb around. “Besides, it’s not like she ain’t _givin’_ it, too!”

* * *

The mustache was gone as soon as Stalyan saw it, and had nearly snarled in disgust.

* * *

“Alriiight, hey! Hey, hey, mission accomplished! Hahah! And _that_ is how, I do _that!_ High fiiives!” He danced over to Stalyan with his hands up.

“FLYNN!” she screeched in admonition. “What the hell were you doing?!”

His hands and expression fell. “Alright, alright, that’s how _we_ do that, go _team_ …”

She continued to rattle off every unnecessary risk he took, things he failed to check, and how at any moment he seemed to be only thinking of himself, without regard for the group of them as a whole.

He hung his head, but had to interrupt her once she finally had scratched through the surface to his genuinely fragile self-esteem and accused him of not caring about _her._ “Alright! Listen, I’m- I’m sorry, okay? Look, I’m not used to working with you two yet. Usually it _is_ just me, or me and Lance. And this was never a _business_ for me before. It’s supposed to be _fun._ ”

“No, it is NOT _‘fun’_ and it is not okay! This isn’t some game. And you need to be _better._ ” She turned on her high heel, swishing her hair, and walked away.

Eugene bit the inside of his mouth and clenched a fist as he watched her.

* * *

“I _love you,_ ” she had muttered sweetly, for the first time that night -- for the first time in forever since it sounded sincerely directed at him. He had not thought he could fall any harder, but suddenly he was surrendering as instructed. “We have _ways_ of making you talk, Mr. Rider.”

He grinned. “Do your worst.”

Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. His eyes had fallen shut, and his mouth open. He panted hard, as his heart had run away from him and his lungs could not keep up. His arms stretched up above him, hands limp, and swollen red on both sides of his wrists. Cloth-sheathed rope coiled around them, then criss-crossed around each other, securing them together and then to the headboard via more rope that some of his fingers weakly clung to. The rest of him was rather flushed as well, and on full display for her. She had stretched him out on her bed for her own pleasure, including the sadistic type.

Eugene had been wary of her suggestion, but his curious boner and her solicitation of his trust saw him agree to this about an hour ago. Since then, he had come two more times than he had ever thought possible, and kept his tongue moving with energy he did not know he had. He felt his own product drying on his stomach and in between his thighs, and hers caking in his goatee.

She touched him again, and he hissed, twisting his hips away and pulling on the bonds of his wrists and ankles. He began groaning about being done, which quickly devolved into begging.

She pet his face, whispering concessions, soothing and comforting him. She untied his wrists, and slowly helped him move them back down. “I love you,” she enchanted again.

His breathing remained heavy, but turned into sighs of relief as he came back down off the high. “God I love you, too, Stal… I love you, too...”

“Hm, maybe someday I’ll _surprise_ you with this.”

He fell asleep imagining what a sexy surprise it would be to wake up already spread and strapped, literally bound to her whim.

* * *

“No,” she laughed. “Flynn, _no._ ” Stalyan rolled back on the bed in their private train compartment. She held her wine glass steady, laughing, in the black and pink lace lingerie they had picked up in Paris just a couple weeks prior. “On a train? There’s no way!”

“No, really, watch!” Eugene plucked out four sizeable jewels from the sackful they had collected from the Sultan of Pencosta. He tossed them up, one after another, and began juggling three, then four, then five.

Stalyan squealed in delight, laughing and cheering him on. Eventually he felt he had sufficiently showed off, he caught two in each hand. A large ruby he directed to roll down his arm before he popped it off his elbow, and it landed perfectly in her palms. Her eyes popped in surprise as she oohed at the dark sparkly red filling her hands.

“Anyway,” he slid onto the bed beside her. “Can’t wait til we get to _Spain._ ” He stared at her lips.

“Hmm,” she moved the ruby aside and curled a leg up to him. “It’ll be pretty, _hot_ this time of year.”

“Uh-huh,” Eugene bit his lip, watching her lustful eyes now, as she finished off her glass. “Sounds pretty _sultry._ ”

“Will probably be _steamy_ at night.”

“You can wear that fancy strapless sequin dress from Milan, eh? N’ _that_ , _I_ told _you_ that plan would work!” he pitched his voice playfully. “Miss I-told-you-the-jewels-were-worth-it! Heh, no faith in my skills.”

She nodded her concession and held up the empty glass to toast his success. “That went better than I thought it would. And now I have a one of a kind _Sophia Strahovski._ ”

“Gonna impress all the _señores,_ ” he dropped his voice to a low sultry rumble, slowly sauntering closer to her, “ _Y una muy buena noche para mííí._ ”

Finally, with an utterly infatuated grin, she grabbed his robe and pulled him over atop her, and he sampled the wine off her mouth.

After just a few seconds, though, he leaned back up. “Oh! And I just remembered! I need to tell you!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together in anticipation. “ _Guueeess_ what’s going on while we’re there!”

She smiled but shook her head. “I don’t know, what?”

“Well, it’ll be a great pick-pocket crowd, and I’ll get to see one of my favorite- ah, well, do you know?”

She shook her head again, confused.

“My favorite fighter’s Rick Maurarder. Aaand, he’ll be in the Challenge of the Brave again! It’s being hosted there for just one big day, and we’re gonna be there!”

Stalyan’s expression fell. “Ugh.”

Eugene’s followed in the same direction. “What?”

“That’s such a stupid show.”

“First off, it’s not a show; it’s a competition-”

“It’s all fake and full of muscle-bound losers.”

“ _Hoh!_ ” Eugene scoffed. “Ho, ho WELL! You are certainly entitled to your _wrong_ opinion.”

“Only I’m _right,_ ” she scoffed back.

Eugene pursed his lips and stared at her hard. “Alright, how about I go and do something with you that I’m not particularly fond of? Hm? Compromise?”

She snickered under her breath. “Sure, Flynn. _Okay._ ”

* * *

A couple more weeks saw Eugene suffer through catering to her thrill-seeking whims...

“Cliff-diving?! You couldn’t’ve picked like a museum or somethin?!”

“‘Cause you _like_ museums. And besides, you promised!”

“Okay, granted, I like museums. But I did NOT _promise_ you anything. I never, _ever_ , make promises. Ever.” He watched as she ignored him. “...don’t we need ropes or something?”

“No,” she grinned.

His eyes bugged out. But, they survived.

...only to be shut down the morning of the Challenge.

“Are you ready?!” he bounded up to her, his change purse loaded, face painted, and giant sponge finger tucked under his arm. “I already got the tickets, but we better get there soon if we wanna get good seats.” Grinning ear to ear, he double checked his coins.

“Oh, um, well I was thinking. It’s too nice a day to be stuck inside of a hot stadium, watching big dumb men sweat.”

“Wha… But we had a deal!”

“Ohhh, comon! Look at that beautiful sky! This is such perfect day of summer weather for a picnic!”

“The sun’s not going anywhere.”

“Don’t you want to have a nice romantic picnic with me?”

“Any other day, yes! All week we’ve been, _enjoying_ each other, but this is the big day!”

The bickering continued in ascending volume, until Eugene threw his hands up.

“Alright, FINE! FINE! You win! I’ll go on the stupid picnic with you! I just, gotta go do this one thing.”

“Take your time.”

“Mm-HM.”

He did not return until much later that evening, with a half-eaten tub of popcorn, alone. She made sure he stayed alone that night.

* * *

“Flynn,” Anthony called antagonistically, “The Baron wants to see you.”

“Not now, Weasel,” Eugene replied, annoyed and brazenly patronizing. “Can't you see I'm with my lady? I apologize, Miss, this doesn’t usually happen during your dates around here, does it?”

Stalyan cooed, tucking her chin in flirtatiously, as Eugene playfully advanced in on her neck.

“ _Now_ , Flynn,” the Baron’s deep and wide baritone voice boomed over them all.

Eugene’s head snapped up at attention to the man’s absolute authority. “I was _just_ on my way to see you, that's crazy!”

She could see it in her father’s eyes, and how Eugene’s similarly avoided hers. “Flynn!” she whined. “You told them?!”

His expression was undeniably cornered. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“I can’t believe you talked to them before you even talked to me about it!”

He cringed. “Okay now that just makes it sound bad! Besides, you didn’t WANT to _talk_ about anything! And Lance said-”

“Lance?! Is there anybody you _haven’t told_ about our fight?!”

He shrank, guilty. “Well-” Suddenly his whole body jolted, and he was left confused why it felt like he was in fight mode while his hands were still on her waist. At last the sting settled in on his cheek. He lost his breath as he realized what had happened, then pursed his lips in a frown to hold tears back. _I just wanted to go see-- oh what does it matter… I need this- this protection. And she’s a girl._ She _can hit_ me… Still, he shoved her away a little, and turned away to wipe his eyes quickly and hold his cheek. _But if we’re going south then what’s the point?_ He glared back at her, not hiding his hurt. “Oh, that’s right, I almost forgot. You can’t trust anyone unless Daddy tells you to!”

“That is _so_ not true.”

“Oh isn’t it?” He stepped farther away himself. “And look at you now! I’m not like you, Stalyan, I can’t just turn my emotions on and off like a faucet! I _talk_ to my best friend when I’m _upset!_ Do you even _have_ ANY friends?!”

“Oh, ya know what? You go in there and you see whose side he takes. You _do_ need to control your feelings. Or you can go _cry_ ‘cause you can’t control yourself and see how far that gets you. Feelings get you killed, Flynn.”

“Urgh, fine!”  


“Fine!”  
  
“FINE!”  


“ _FINE!_ ”

* * *

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, WAIT. Hold up,” Lance waved his hands and shook his head. “You’re _still_ gonna go _back_ to her?”

They had gone out to discuss life and love while drowning both out, amidst getting familiar with some other unfamiliar ladies.

“ _Yeees,_ ” Eugene groaned in exasperation. “If I'm not there when she gets back, I’m screwed. And _not_ in the good way!”

Lance reclined back out. “I donno what you’re rushing for, though. You got time for another round. Maybe tell your troubles to one of these lovelies.”

Eugene rolled his eyes unseen, finished fixing his boot and stood.

“Let them lick your wounds. _Again,_ ” he chuckled.

Eugene smirked and snorted at his friend, but the woman he had paired off with now tried to hold him there. He smiled for her, indulged in a few more kisses and touches, but ultimately turned her around and sat her down on the bed as he pulled away. He left an extra coin in her hand. “Sorry, blondie. Not something you can figure out for me,” he shook his head and left.

* * *

For the first time since he had met her, Eugene had butterflies when he saw Stalyan. She met him at the lookout point for their next target; a shrub-covered cliff ridge overlooking the capital of Equis.

“Hey,” she smiled, uncertain. “Flynn, what’s all this?” She looked around at what looked more like a picnic than a thief’s reconnaissance base.

Eugene grinned, faking up his courage. “Oh, well, sorry but,” he shrugged it off like it was nothing, “You know, no one throws a stakeout like-” _Flynn Rider? Eugene Fitzherbert?_ “Well, like _me_ _._ ” He chuckled and smiled crookedly as they went in to kiss. “Ooh,” he noted a cut on her lip. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled shyly and touched it. “Occupational hazard. I got the map though.”

“Thanks, thanks yeah. ” He smirked worriedly as he accepted it and gestured, “Well sit, sit.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” She smiled more fully, and blushed every so slightly. She sat cross-legged on the ground beside him, and accepted a glass of champagne.

“Stal, uh,” Eugene looked over to her, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “There’s… something I wanted to tell you.”

She huffed a laugh into her glass. “Oh, _no,_ Rider. You’re not gonna get all mushy on me are you?”

“Ahh- haha-” _Abort!_ He gave her another toothy, uneven smile as he chuckled with her. “Naw, naw, I just wanted to tell you, that…” He gulped and cleared his throat. “Stal, my real…” Adrenaline stole his voice, leaving him unsure when he could speak strongly again.

“Your real…?” She was staring at him now, impatiently waiting for him to go on. “What _is it_ , Flynn?”

He winced. _Eugene…_ He took a deep breath. _My real name is Eugene..._ With furrowed brow, Eugene looked all around in her eyes, but found nothing comforting. He gulped again, then deflated. _I can’t..._ “I’m sorry. My real reason for taking this _on solo,_ is because I’m trying to impress your dad…” He trailed off into mopiness, but realized he had to drive it back. He laughed off the nerves, and she joined in, catching his infectious laughter. “And ya know, tryin’ to impress your dad has become like a fulltime _job!_ ” He added a silly face to deny any serious thoughts whatsoever. “Like, _whaaat?_ The point of stealing stuff’s to _not_ have a job!” he continued muttering as his forced chuckling died out.

She nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Well, you pull this off, and you’re in for good.” She pulled out her spyglass and began scanning the ramparts of King Trevor’s castle, matching it up to the map. “It’s what you want, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered mindlessly. He tried to focus back on the map as well, to no avail. He licked his lips and glanced back to her, admiring her in action, in her element. In the dark of another moonless night, her soft maroon leather further hid her from even starlight. The fog below made navigating difficult. He watched her. _But she’ll never know, never care_ _…_ _What’s it gonna take to get you to believe in me?_ His eyes fell away, disheartened and frankly scared.

“Know where you’re going?” Her question clashed against his reverie.

He jumped back to attention. “Yeah, uh, yeah. Sorry.” He fixed the poofy hat on his head, then gulped again and switched to a cheerful, determined voice. “I know where I’m supposed to go.”

* * *

“ _Uggghhh!_ ” Eugene groaned out petulantly. “ _Co-o-ome_ ON! She was just some dumb blonde! What do _you_ care?!”

Without looking, Stalyan threw his dagger behind her. It stuck directly in the middle of a wooden cherub’s face adorning the top of a mirror.

Eugene jumped. “Uh, ah-” He lost his voice to a whisper. “Okayyy. Apparently, you _do care._ ” He smiled crookedly and nervously, while chuckling uneasily to match. When her seething glare did not budge, he gulped. “A lot.”

“DON’T,” she warned through gritted teeth, “Ever do that again.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but…” He sighed and began walking away. “I just-”

“FLYNN!” She snatched his wrist, twisted his arm, and whipped him to the side, face first against the wall. “Did you really think I don’t care? That I don’t want you?!”

With his face smushed against the wall, he was helpless, knowing he deserved it. Yet, of course, he did not want to actually face consequences. “If you’re planning on hurting me, even to prove a point, I think you should know I have a very low threshold for pain.”

“And a girl like that, really?!”

“Exactly!” he agreed. “You know I can’t take a blonde like that _seriously_!”

“Took her far enough-”

“Well it’s not like you’ve been around!”

That was the last thing he remembered saying, before waking up on the floor with a headache. He found her again, and apologized, submissively as possible. He left himself completely open to her, and that night she pulled him back in.

* * *

“ _Flynn,_ ” Lance scolded, “That woman had nothing to do with her husband’s debt!”

 _It’s not like I_ enjoyed _scaring the old lady._ “I know,” Eugene turned away, rubbing his cheek, trying to remain looking tough, and trying to forget about the incident they were talking about. “I know, but-”

“But _Stalyan,_ ” he mockingly groaned. “Yeah, yeah.”

Eugene shook his head. “ _I_ know I wouldn’t’ve hurt her, and besides, what’s done is done.” He started walking away, the woman’s coins jingling in his pouch.

“Where you going?”

“Seein’ her again tonight.”

“Her?” Lance smirked. “Which ‘her?’”

“Stalyan,” Eugene sneered, not appreciating the patronization.

“Heh. And the hit?”

“I’ll lie,” he smirked and shrugged back to his best friend.

“Uh-huh,” Lance rolled his eyes. “YOU gonna at least hit _that_ tonight?”

“Hey, Lady had a headache last night! Whatcha gonna do?” he called back in good humor. His smirk quickly dissolved away into sourness once he turned away. _Anytime_ I _ask, she’s got a ‘headache.’_ _But that still doesn’t explain how sometimes I don’t even know where she’s been..._

* * *

“We need aliases for the banquet tonight. Going to be mingling with a bunch of French diplomats. Do you have anything in mind?”

Eugene gulped and choked out a little laugh, brow raised. “Uhh,” he licked his lips as he hesitated. He had to clear his throat, unsure how it would come out of his own mouth, it had been so long. “Eu _g_ ene Fitz’erbert?” The G came out harder than he preferred, the H got swallowed.

Stalyan guffawed. “Just had that waiting in the wings?” But she nodded amidst continuing to laugh. “But alright, that’s good! That’s good. Nice and uptight, hoity-toity.”

Eugene grinned and laughed at it with her, uneasily. “Yeah, yeah, haha I just figured, just picked the _stuffiest_ sounding thing ever. Should fit right in, huh?”

“ _Oui, très bourgeois,_ ” she said coyly with puckered lips and appropriate accent.

“ _Faaantastique!_ ” he exaggerated with his own appropriate accent.

“British name and French accent, _Euuu-gene?_ ” she chuckled with a sneering undertone. “Pick one.”

 _Yughlc,_ Eugene’s thoughts shuddered, and he let a grimace slip out, at hearing her tongue tease out and butcher that name for the first time.

“And backstory?” she switch to cooing flirtatiously.

“I dunno,” he shrugged off. “ _Crown Prince?_ ” he answered facetiously.

They both laughed even harder at that.

“Sorry. Lil too conspicuous?”

“Yeah, a _little._ ”

They both sipped at their drinks, making eyes at each other over the rims of their glasses; eyes Eugene was not sure how he felt about.

* * *

“It’s not true...” In the dank stone kitchen, Eugene stepped out of the shadows from under a staircase.

“Flynn!” Stalyan gasped and whirled around.

“Is it?” His crossed arms fell to his sides, limp in shock and disbelief. “Tell me it’s not true… ”

She stepped back, stuttering, at a loss.

“Did you sleep with him?!” he suddenly yelled, echoing all around.

Stalyan froze. “It’s… _complicated._ ”

Eugene glared at her. “I thought you were supposed to be _good_ at lying.” He swiftly blew through the door to the outside, slamming it behind him.

* * *

She apologized to him. She made it up lavishly to him. She swore up and down to him. She casually reminded him about her father. She cried that she wanted him. She referenced his own unfaithfulness in their uncommitted relationship.

Flynn forgave her. Out of fear, obligation, and guilt, he forgave her. But he was fine to forget it. Eugene, on the other hand, was not as sure about himself. But, he had an idea of how to fix everything about both of them. Yes, he would make it a perfect day, and everything would magically end happily ever after.

Once her crocodile tears dried, he released her from their hug but held her hands, and knelt. All his storybooks and hubris and naivete told him this was the right thing to do, especially if he did not want to lose her to anyone else again.

“Stalyan, will you marry me?”

* * *

“ _ **ANTHONYYY!!!**_ ” Eugene stormed in from the snow right through the front door of the Baron’s castle. His breathing ragged, lungs and legs burning, he all around looked crazed, with cold sparkling sweat slicked across his beat red skin and glittering melted snow stuck about his clothes. He shoved away any servant or guard who dared to or even just happened to be in his way. Door after door slammed open, til he found him: with the Baron in his office. Both men jerked up at his intrusion, not that he cared. “ _You_ DIRTY ROTTEN LITTLE _WEASEL!_ ”

Anthony’s brow raised, slightly unexpectant. The Baron’s stern face needed not change.

“Surprised to see me?! You let loose ALL the horses! Butchya made sure to keep _one_ for yourself! Left us for DEAD with the Royal Guard! Not to mention the SNOW! Lance and I almost didn’t make it _back!_ ”

Anthony quirked a malicious smile, as the Baron answered for him. “Under my orders, Rider.”

His rage doubled and turned to him. “YOUR orders?! _W_ _HAT!?_ _!_ Lance and I are the BEST guys you got, and you’re tryna _BURN_ us?!”

“Not Lance.”

Eugene’s anger vanished and he blanched, breathless. _He knows!_ His mouth fell open and a chill ran down his overheated spine.

Anthony’s smile turned more deliciously evil, but the Baron addressed him first. “Anthony, give us a moment.” He bowed out, and closed the door behind him.

Eugene stayed frozen where he was. He gulped.

The Baron glared him down in the deafening silence. “I know what you two are planning.”

“...pl-lanning?” he gasped.

The Baron stood and took slow steps toward him, letting his size bear down on the groom-hopeful, who shrank under the weight of his presence alone. “You’re trying to steal away with my precious Stalyan.”

Eugene found some shreds of voice left to make this probable-plea for his life. “If you must know, we... _are_ very much in love- _happy,_ and yes, soon to be _married._ ”

“ _Welllll,_ you wanna _live,_ Flynn Rider?” the Baron stated, deathly serious. “You better take care of my daughter.”  
  
Eugene shuddered at the consequent warning, but at least it was a command for something he was already planning to do. “Of course.”

* * *

“So your dad wants me dead.” He kicked his foot out in the dirt as they walked arm in arm.

Stalyan chuckled. “He doesn’t _want_ you _dead._ He’s just overprotective.”

Eugene half frowned and raised his opposite brow in complete faithlessness. _As always..._

She dipped her head and delicately suggested, “We could elope.”

He shrugged it off. “I’m sorry, I don't wanna _elope._ Okay?”

The pleasant walk predictably ceased and the bickering resumed for quite a few minutes.

He rolled his head side to side, frustrated. “I just don't! Not at all. Not even in the slightest bit! I've always wanted a big family wedding, and now, more than ever. WE can actually HAVE that! So _no._ I’m sorry, but my answer to eloping is NO.”

“Okay, fine, I hear what you're saying,” she sweetly negotiated, before switching back to whining. “But why do _you_ get to say no?! What about what I want?!”

Eugene eventually realized he had no choice but to concede; but the Baron had other plans. The big crime family patron put his big foot down, insisting on a big wedding, and instigating another rift between fiancés. This one, nobody ever made any effort to bridge.

* * *

A beam of sunlight crossed his eyes, chasing away his slumber and frivolous dream. Against what would be better judgement, in his just-woken state, he opened his eyes. The perfect view he had of the sky and sun burned at first, but was right there in his immediate field of vision.

As his body became aware of itself, a soft woman stirred at his side; but he also felt an identical sensation on his other side. He glanced, at the blonde on each side. One rested her head on his shoulder, clutching his arm. The other he had his arm around, as her arm was draped on his chest. He grinned ear to ear, then settled his head back into his pillow and closed his eyes.

Lance cleared his throat pointedly, a second time.

Eugene started, but tried not to alert the girls. His eyes darted to Lance standing above him, looking as angry as he had ever seen him. “Well, _some_ body looks _jealous._ ”

“Jealous?!” he hissed indignantly, raising a fist. But suddenly he calmed. “Actually yes, yes I am. But Flynn?! Where _were_ you before?”

“When?”

“Is _this_ where you were?! When you were supposed to meet me with a getaway zipline!”

Eugene smirked, and settled in comfortably again. “I do not recall,” he sassed.

“‘You don’t recall?’” Lance sassed right back. “Why? ‘Cause it’d paint you in a bad light?”

“Mmm,” he grinned. “Only the best lighting for this work of art, thank you.”

Lance crossed his arms. “ _Flynnnnn…_ ” he chastised.

“ _Ohhh c’mon,_ I was having a good dream.” He squeezed the stirring, still-naked girls closer to his own naked body. “A _very_ good dream.”

Lance hmphed. “I bet you don’t even know what today is.”

“Thuuuhhh day I have my _second_ threesome ever?”

“No, it’s-”

“Oh, no, I know. If they’re alright with it, sure, I don’t skeeve _you,_ man. First foursome.”

“Comon, it’s your _wedding day!_ ”

Eugene’s eyes popped wide open. All he could see was the sun as it hit them again with the full force of its light, and all he could think was, “I can’t do this.”

* * *

“ _Eugene…_ ”

Eugene felt himself just waking up, but everything was too bright. _Again?_ Lance’s voice sounded so far away.

“ _Eugene…_ ” he slapped his cheek a little.

He squinted awake and shook his head himself.

“Mannn, what happened to you?” Lance asked as they locked hands and he helped him sit up.

He moaned as he rubbed his face and looked around, remembering the last 24 hours. He had settled in to sleep in a back alley, behind a pile of trash. _But ‘Eugene?’_ “Why-? Why’re you callin me that?” he groggily asked.

Lance ignored his question. “I thought you might not show up, but,” he shook his head. “Maaan, what’re you _doin_ _’_ _?_ ”

Eugene shrugged it off.

“ _Eugene!_ ” Lance looked around nervously, then back to Eugene. “The _whole town_ knows ‘cause the Baron _told_ everyone. He wants _you._ ”

His eyes finally widened a little at that news, slowly starting to understand why his friend was resorting to another name. “Uh, uh- _what?_ ”

“He wants you _dead!_ ” he squeaked. “You. Have got. To _leave_. And this time I mean you gotta leave _the country_ _._ Flynn Rider’s good as dead here.”

Eugene gulped. “Will you come with me?”

Lance pursed his lips and frowned. “I _told_ you to get outta there. As soon as you got in. 2 years ago.”

Eugene turned away, exhausted from talking about the issue already. “It was… complicated…”

“But you _could_ have just left. At any time.”

“How?” he threw his hands up, at a loss.

“Let's see, you put one foot, in- front- of- the- _other!_ ”

He stared hard into space, unable to think of any point in time he would have had a chance to walk away. He huffed in his defense, “When would she have let m-”

“‘ _LET’_ YOU?!” Lance hissed angrily, miming pulling hair out of his bald head. “EUgene! She’s been doin nothing but using and controlling you. You finally got it through your head that _you_ don’t love _her,_ but what makes you think _she_ ever loved _you?!_ ”

Eugene looked up to his friend’s stern face. His cracked. “You were right about her the whole time… I just couldn’t see it- I didn’t wanna see it…” He hung his head and shook it in despair. “Let’s go.”

* * *

8 Years Later

/

2 Weeks Ago

“I do.” Her voice did not even sound as sweet as he had once fantasized.

The Baron turned to him. “And do you, Flynn Rider?”

His insides flipped at hearing the fictional name yet again.

“Do you take this beautiful young woman, to be your lawfully wedded wife, until death do you part?”

Rock after rock stacked up on his stomach, painfully aware of each phrase he was hearing in his vows. _Death? If only… Goodbye, Blondie. Guess we’re back to past tense- You_ were _my new dream._ He gulped down bile that had jumped to his throat. “I-” _Awgh, Lance…_ He retreated to his stock swashbuckler voice. “I do.”

“I now pronounce you Man and Wife.” The Baron grinned between them. “You may _kiss_ the _bride._ ”

Eugene gulped again, this time trying not to faint. He looked right through Stalyan leaning in for the kiss. Once she was right in front of his nose, a memory flashed before his eyes, of what he had more recently so often dreamed: A short brunette pixie cut, under glowing white, closing sparkling emerald eyes, and a giddy smile in pastel pink. _Or hell, if it’s still 70 feet long and the latest shade of unbreakable-blonde, then whatever! Either way she_ _’s my Blondie_ _._ He exhaled easy, relaxed by the imagined distraction.

When Stalyan’s lush lips touched his, he blinked wide in shock. Her long mascaraed lashes were already closed. All he saw in his peripheral was the darkness of her black skirt and petticoat and auburn hair. He instinctively puckered just a little, then closed his eyes and pressed on, the effort showing all around his face.

He winced at the buried memory that bubbled up to the surface. His own 19-year-old self’s desires to kiss those lips again. His desperation some nights to have just had one more. How he imagined he would savor another chance. How did he ever manage to forget her scent, her touch, her taste? _Eugene_ quickly put the punk in his place, but finished the job. He jerked away as soon as it felt sufficient to please onlookers. The band started up again, and the crowd cheered.

As he stood back up straight and tall, Stalyan grabbed his arm to hang on, which he allowed, but Eugene looked only to the Baron. “So you said you had a _present_ for me, _Dad?_ ”

“Indeed I do.” He slipped the thin gold chain over his head, and handed it over to Eugene.

He snatched the dangling vile, and shook Stalyan off. He began to run back inside, only to find that Lance had already been brought out from their cell and was lying just outside the glass French doors leading back into the castle. “Lance!” Eugene stopped short, and fell to his knees beside his best friend. He cupped his feverish greenish cheek and turned his head. “ _O_ _hh_ _h,_ I’m so sorry.” He popped the top off, carefully held his chin with his head tilted back, and stuck the vial in his mouth.“Everything’s gonna be okay, though, I promise.” His tongue was so swollen, he had to ensure that all of the antivenom stayed in his mouth and got to his throat. He discarded the empty vial, but continued to hold him and coax the antivenom down his throat. “Comon, just- _work_ …”

Lance coughed a little, as his breathing was so wet and labored. He managed to pick his head up, his reddened eyes looking right through Eugene. “Oh, Eugnnn?” his voice still sounded delirious and euphoric.

“Yes, yes!” Eugene clenched a fist in excitement.

“Clovis got married.”

Eugene choked on the breath he had been holding. “Yeah, yeah he did, buddy. He got married for you...” He wiped the cold sweat from Lance’s forehead. “Oh, man, how’re you feelin? Lance?”

Lance’s head lolled back around, but his wet breathing continued; a good and bad sign.

“Lance?!” Eugene yelled in his face, but he was too out of it to hear him. Eugene’s semi-collected expression broke completely. Tears stuck to his lashes, then spilled over as he dropped his head to his chest. “ _Arnwaldo,_ ” he whispered. “ _Arnie..._ I’m _so_ sorry. This is all my fault!”

He had not realized Stalyan had followed him. “Did he drink it?” she suddenly asked, her voice shaken and delicate.

Eugene nodded.

“And is he still breathing?”

“For now, he still is,” he croaked with a stuffed up nose.

She reached a hand out to touch his shoulder “Flynn-”

Eugene whipped around and smacked her hand away. “Was that even an antidote?!” he screamed as he stood up, getting in her face. “Huh?!”

Stalyan cowered and stepped back. “It was- but-”

“But what!” He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the nearest glass door.

“Flynn!” she shrieked, “Wait- _wait!_ ”

“What could _possibly_ matter now?!” Their hands fought, but Eugene got both of her tiny wrists. “Are you happy now? You’ve taken _everything_ from me. My _future_ , my Dreams, my best _friend!_ ”

Stalyan tried to speak, only to find he was genuinely squeezing her windpipe with all his strength. She stared at him, horrified.

“I bet your dad won’t even use the spider on me when he finds you. It’d take too long. I remember how he works. He’ll _lose it,_ and just do me the favor of slitting my throat right here. Even bleeding out would take too long for him. _I should know._ ” They struggled some more, but Eugene overpowered her again. “Is this the _Romeo and Juliet_ love story you wanted?!” Remembering she had never read it, at least as far as he knew nowadays, further pissed him off.

“ _...can… save him…_ ”

“Then tell me how to save him,” he snarled through gritted teeth, before flinging her to the ground.

She landed on her hands and knees, coughing. Quickly, she recovered enough to say, “It’ll just take a few minutes to start working.”

Eugene still looked and felt crazed, but looked back to Lance. His breathing seemed to be going more easily already. Anthony and some guards took Lance back inside, and barred Eugene from following.

Stalyan pulled him back to the party. “They’ll watch over him as he recovers.”

* * *

Eugene spent the next four hours getting as drunk as possible. It was surprisingly difficult, though, as the spirits were too strong, and he had not realized it was even possible for wine to be so dull and dry. Mixed drinks tasted like rubbing alcohol, and that wine might as well be hard water. _Not wastin’ the good stuff on the townsfolk, eh?_ After enough concoctions, and pinched-nose shots, however, his sense of taste had thankfully taken a hike. The glass he nursed now served only to keep his mind out of commission. Anytime he noticed his vision not doubling, recognized a piece of music, had feeling tingle back into any part of his body, or had any conscious thought, he sipped until it stopped.

Whenever he caught sight of Stalyan eyeing him, he knew he was going to need it. Before Eugene could drink himself into a limp slumber, however, Stalyan approached him, holding two full glasses.

“Hey, Stranger.”

Eugene swayed against the column he was leaned on, and took another sip. “Finally got _somethin_ _’_ right.”

“Brought you a little peace offering.” She held out the right glass.

He glanced at it blankly, only focused on being obstinate. “Already got one, thanks. Why don’t you find some other chump that you can fleece.”

“Fleece?” she laughed. “ _This_ is a peppery pinot grigio from my father’s wine cellar. Specifically an ‘86 Chateau Le Franc pinot. I know this stuff they’re handing out here is _crap,_ but you and I deserve _something better_.”

He pointedly stared away from her. “You think I don’t remember that?”

She grinned mysteriously. “So you do.”

His brow raised, and he sighed with rolling eyes. “Alright, thanks.” He could hardly make out much of any taste, but it certainly went down more smoothly than anything else he had drunk all night. “Mmm,” he moaned at it. “Should’ve started off with this, before I shot my tastebuds off.”

Stalyan smirked as she stepped up close and pressed herself to him.

Eugene thought to squirm, but he was already so sedated that it did not physically feel particularly objectionable just yet.

She smiled up at him, staring at his lips. “Let’s dance.”

“I’m not really a _dancer._ ” He leaned away.

“Oh, stop _lying_ already!” she chuckled lightheartedly. “Come on, drink up!” She clinked their glasses and tipped hers back to down.

Eugene groaned but finished off the new drink as well. He left both glasses on the stone ledge of the railing beside them, then trudged past her. “Alright, let’s go then.”

* * *

The night seemed to pick up speed as he faded in and out of blacking out more and more. He did not remember how he got to the bedroom, but he was suddenly there with her.

“No, no no no no no, what are you doing?” To him, his own voice sounded like it was detached and underwater. He could hardly be sure he was making any noise at all. “What the Hell’s going on?!” His body registered no drop in gravity as he landed flat on his back on the bed. He struggled against his own vertigo to get back up, but finally managed it accidentally.

“Oh, come on, Flynn. That’s cute,” she laughed, “I _know_ you know what to do on a _wedding night._ ”

He could swear it was just one blink and his shoulder guard and jacket were gone. Stalyan’s mouth seemed to be attached to his collarbone. “Stal, what- where-” He reflexively grabbed onto her shoulders.

She merely giggled and continued touching him all around.

“Did you _spike_ the wine wit’ sumptin’ else?” _Isn’t that how she took care of those French diplomats? Poison..._

“Come on,” she whined, “Remember how much fun we used to have?”

At the suggestion to remember, he fell back into the dark pool of his mind; blacked out again.

When he came-to again, his boots were gone, and his arms were already in the process of pushing her back, but whatever awareness he had of his arms felt like jello. “I can’t do this- no, wait- I _can’t_ do this!” He panicked with an unfamiliar paranoia that freaked him out even more.

“Don’t worry, we’re actually married this time,” she laughed.

“God, no-” The lone singularity left in his mind at very least understood the primal concept of how he was now _married_ to his worst ex, and not his best friend with the power of the sun coursing through her veins. Tears choked up his throat and burned his cheeks as he barely rasped, “ _No…_ ”

“You ready for me?”

“Don’t...” He expected to feel something in that department after that comment, but could not feel anything. He tried opening his eyes, only to realize they were already open. But even as separated images of her orbited each other and left a haloing trail, it looked like her arm was reaching down. He wondered if he was still wearing pants. “Do I’ve…”

“Oh, comon, haven’t you _missed_ me, if only for this, Flynn?”

“Eu _g-n._ ”

“Here, I’ll help you.” She reached for his belt.

A reflex to grab her wrist finally worked. “No, I- You- don’t do that!” Their hands slapped back and forth as he tried to stop her from at least this one part. How to get away if he ever succeeded never occurred to him yet. “I don’ wanna-” The fight escalated viciously, as he was desperate to keep her from removing his last line of defense. He babbled away, but mostly grunted to not lose what little focus he had. He could not tell if his kicking was making contact with anything, but still tried to kick instinctively, though weakly.

Her mouth confused and distracted him by violating his chest and torso, running her hands around along with her tongue.

Before Eugene knew how she had done it, he had lost. One second they were grappling, the next, they were both naked, and she was straddling him, pinning his wrists above his head. He came to in this state, trying to catch his breath, when it was taken away as she lowered herself. She took him in, and pulled a moan out of him. At the vague sensation of warmth and pressure, that area remembered how it had indeed been an impossibly long time since he had felt anything like that. “God, Stal…” his throat cried out without permission from his mind.

“Awgh, God, Flynn!” She moaned out liberally for him as she enjoyed herself. “You feel even better than I remembered...”

He winced. For a split second, the familiar position, the jostling as she rode him, and simply her entire body, all clicked into place as a good sensation he used to miss so badly. Just as naturally, though, he remembered himself. “Stopit… I’m not-” He was terrified at her progress in blurring the lines between Flynn and Eugene. “‘At’s not _meee!_ ” he cried. The storm inside swirled into a mess between his relatively numb body and intermittently firing brain, all of it leaving him feeling as if ablaze with shards of ice. Nothing made sense and he felt foreign to his own self.

“Oh, what? You’re gonna try to get me to use your fake name again? _Rider?_ ” she emphasized with exaggerated thrusts.

Eugene threw his head back; his hips involuntarily met hers. “Yes--” The realization was slow, but he finally picked his head back up. _Urgh! Yes I want you to use my real name. No I don’t want this anymore!_ “ _Nnn ugh_ , ‘Rider’ yeah real original… No, you know...”

  
“God you feel so good,” she said as she dove to suck on his neck, while they both moaned.

The last thing Eugene would remember was giving up, succumbing to the repulsive hell.

* * *

Eugene’s eyes were open before he realized he was awake. He stared at the floor from almost hanging off the edge of the alien bed for a while. Eventually, he blinked into full consciousness. The next thing he realized was his lack of any clothes. He looked down at his bare chest, confused. However, beyond that, he pulled back the covers, and saw what really sank a rock of sickness in his deepest gut. He touched himself hesitantly with just a couple fingers; some was dried and some was still sticky, but it was from himself. He did not remember anything about it at first.

He whipped around to check behind him; Stalyan was sound asleep with her bare back to him. The flashes of awareness came back to him, but it felt like they were memories from a blurry dream he could not quite make logical timely or orderly sense of. He looked down at his hand, baffled as to when the cold metal ring actually got there. _Did that really just happen? I- I remember about Lance, but_ _w_ _hy_ _did I actually fuck her again? I didn’t want to do that ever again, so how did I end up doing just that!_ He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, standing up from the bed. _Drank too much,_ he chalked it up to. He looked at how his clothes were strewn all across the floor of the room. He sighed, and under his breath chastised himself. “ _Scumbag…_ ” He spotted his belt and pouches, knelt, and fished out the red ring box out of one. He flicked open the brass clasp; still there. An unexpected sob tore through him, but he covered his mouth and bit hard on his bottom lip to keep his crying silent, watching her for any signs of movement.

Eugene stood up and slowly crept to the bay window to sit on the cushioned seat with one leg pulled up. He gazed into the diamond until his vision blurred it out.

Eventually he lifted his eyes to the heavens, but the clouds and fog hid all but the full moon, which he settled on. _No stars- I can’t even tell which direction Corona is, or the caravan…_ He envisioned his true Beloved was looking at the moon, too, at this very moment from somewhere, somewhere safe. Through this he imagined it reflecting her love over to him. _If she did find me though- she’d_ hate _me now, ‘cause I’m gonna break her heart when she finds out- when I confess. If I- I_ _F_ _I ever see her again! What_ _if that’s the last time I ever saw her- sending her back to the caravan?!_ _I swore I’d never leave her and she never got to explain herself, but to see I ran off with my ex and immediately got married? And hopped right in bed to fuck her, ugh- where did_ _I even..._ _? I don_ _’t even remember._ _God, I didn't want any of this! This is sooo far beyond cheating, I can’t even imagine-! I don’t remember even starting_ _at all let alone_ _finishing. What if- or when?!- I get her pregnant?! We were careful when we were dating but now... When she finds out- oh, God, no- I am gonna break Rapunzel’s heart_ and _crush her soul..._ He coughed as he choked on his thoughts, and backed up tears draining down his throat.

He brought the ring box up to his lips and kissed it, before dropping his forehead to lean on it, and letting the sob session just carry on and consume him. _Now I can_ never _marry her… My New Dream, my Sunshine, my_ _Princess_ _, MY girl._ _‘_ _Princess Rapunzel Fitzherbert_ _’_ _…_ Breathlessly, he cried out. “ _Blondie…_ ”

* * *

**A/N:** _Repeat~_ I always wish people to “Enjoy,” but for this, I understand that _enjoyment_ may not best describe the feelings evoked. So I suppose it’s more like, I hope you hate it. Thanks for taking a chance on this new territory with me, and please review & comment! Even if it's just as a guest, it matters, really.

_Follow me at MiraNova23 on tumblr!_


	4. World's Smallest Set of Handcuffs

_**\- Chapter 3 -** _

**World’s Smallest Set of Handcuffs**

For those first two and the next week, their paths would cross at the most tentative twilight hours of dusk and dawn. Even as he learned the patterns of the household, he successfully avoided her less and less. The hatred and tension and undertow of numbness grew more and more familiar. And Eugene found his new coping skills were stuck at a standstill against her relentless waves of force.

At the end of the third week, Stalyan had him attend dinner with her and her father for the first time since he had arrived. Eugene sat up straight, but with his head down. He pushed his food around, sometimes idly sticking a little bit in his mouth, never tasting any of it. With great effort he barely choked a small portion down.

Later that night, Stalyan sat up in bed with the covers pulled up, finishing filing her nails. "Ya know, I bet the princess never showed you a good time like _that._ "

Eugene lay curled up away from her, but propped up on just as many pillows. He sneered over his shoulder, “And _I’d_ naturally bet she _could_ show me a _better_ time.”

“--wait. _‘Could?’_ ” Stalyan leaned over. "DID you two ever even-?” 

Eugene sighed and winced his eyes shut in embarrassed regret. _Damn it, should not have said it like-- now she knows._

“Pwu _hah!_ Oh my God, Flynn- A whole _year?_ Well, I know _you._ You _had_ to have someone on the side, right?"

“ _No!_ ” he asserted as he began to turn over and sit up. “I-”

"No? Wow, what HAVE you been doing to yourself? Well, I guess you _had_ to, 'do it to yourself,’ then." She got distracted chuckling, still not believing him.

He glared her down, unamused. “Ya know, everyone thinks they need to remind _me_ how ‘new to the world’ she is- you say it was selfish to propose marriage to a girl who’d only _just_ gotten her freedom, but at the same time, ya’ll _want_ me to’ve snatched _that_ flower quick as I could, huh? And you say _I’m_ the despicable person?”

She scoffed. " _Really,_ Rider? Do you really think she _ever_ would have let you?"

“ _Yeees!_ ” he craned his neck out to stress. “Either on a wedding night, or close to a wedding night. We have _talked_ about sex at least and she wants kids, too, so!” He threw his hands out to lay down his defenses. “But it’s almost like that’s not the _biggest_ reason I’m dating her, now is it?!”

“You _were_ dating her.”

Eugene blinked in the shock of it yet again, trying to remember again that he was indeed married to someone else now. He could not very well _still_ be in another relationship. _Rapunzel and I? We’re… broken up?_ He pouted, loathe to think of them described as where they appeared to stand. _Rapunzel’s my EX-_ he gulped, _Ex-girlfriend? Not even ex-fiance for her. The Princess is single and I’m? The next Baron..._ He sighed, cringed, and shook his head. “Stalyan, this…” _Is insane! You’re crazy!_ “This feels wrong,” he whined out the throwaway petition.

“Well I know it’s right in the long run,” she cooed. “And _come on,_ The Legendary Flynn Rider; he does whatever he wants, _takes_ whatever he wants. And then? Happily ever after. He has everything his little heart could ever desire.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Eugene shook his head. “He really doesn’t.”

Stalyan smirked at him.

“Even IF-” he dropped his hand out to explain, “Let’s say I _am_ still trying to be _Flynnagen_ Rider. The first and foremost thing I should have is MY _freedom_. Second, you _really_ think it’s more like _Flynn_ to have _actually_ married you? Ever? You’re right, he _was_ a womanizer. I took it more romantically than that, but still, I never expected to get to _really_ settle down with anyone. Never thought I’d really ever get to raise kids properly and grow old, in love with just _one_ person. Even if I did go through with the wedding back then? I’d have left you. And we both know that’s true. Maybe not til after a honeymoon, maybe not even for a few more years, but I _never_ wanted to actually spend the _rest of my life_ with you. I just wanted you to want me, never mind the type of person you were- er, _are._ And I couldn’t work with you as a partner and _not_ want to fuck you- _back. then._ I got carried away with romanticizing _a wedding_ , but all I _really_ wanted? Was a sense of accomplishment, basically another conquest. The next logical step as an adult, just another means to my own stupid end. I wasn’t even thinking about a title or taking over for your dad someday- I just wanted his approval, this lifestyle. Not any kind of responsibility or accountability! I only realized all that when I woke up _that_ morning.” He paused to sigh. “Between two other women.” He waited for her reaction, but it merely showed that she already knew. He took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders. “And I couldn’t give up that freedom.” He looked away. _I should have understood that you were just going through the same thing, Blondie… But she still_ loves _me. I_ know _she does. Right? I hope? Why couldn’t we just have_ talked _about why she refused both proposals?! I WANT to know why, so that maybe I could help or fix it or at least not drive myself crazy wondering!_

She glared at him the whole time, arms crossed. “Ya done? That was _eight years ago._ Now?” She opened her arms up to gesture around them. “Here we are.”

“Wha…?” He had gotten so absorbed in his own thoughts that he forgot what they were originally talking about.

She leaned on his shoulder a kissed his cheek. “You don’t want to run anything, fine. I can do it, and do it better than you anyway. You just stay handsome.” The tip of her finger tapped his nose.

His stomach churned, strangely conscious of it being sooo long since someone else let it be known that he _needed_ to rely on his good looks. _If I’m not then nobody will--_ He caught the old thought pattern this time. _SHE- she actually HAD the power to keep me young and handsome forever. If she’d suggested that, I would’ve been all for it! Thinking I’d need that to stay with her. But none of it mattered to her._ He stared into space, smiling.

“Mmm, what?” Stalyan teased. “You like the sound of that?”

He shook his head. “I never needed to impress her with my looks. _I_ kept that vanity up, but looks never mattered to her. No lies, no conditions or fake names. She just loved _me_.”

She pushed up off him and humphed away with her back to him.

* * *

“Any word from Corona?” Lance asked.

“How should I know?” Eugene shrugged defeatedly. _If there is… I’m not so sure I wanna know..._

“Eu _GENE!_ ” Lance snapped, “It’s been _three_ weeks at this point! You been walkin’ around the castle all this time, and you haven’t sent a letter to Corona?!”

Eugene sighed. “Lance, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Wouldn’t matter?! That girl would do anything for you, and you don’t think it’d matter?! And even if she’s not there, aren’t you basically a prince to them already? Wouldn’t good ole’ Mr. _The King_ send help for us?”

“Look, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m NOT the Princess’s _boyfriend_ anymo-...” his voice broke. “I’m actually not _anything_ to Corona anymore, and I _still_ lost a best friend. I’m back where I started ten years ago, broke, and stuck with this cu- Ah! Hey!”

Hookfoot had reached through the bars and flicked his ear sharply. “You’re lucky you’re not in here with me ‘cause then I’d _really_ knock some sense into ya!”

Eugene sat up and stared at him in angry, speechless shock. _Mutiny! Where’s the camaraderie?!_

“And lucky enough to be sleeping with a beautiful woman every night, instead of _sharing_ a cell with a hygienically-challenged thug,” Lance accused.

“ _Lucky?!_ ” Eugene yelled with a deep sneer. _‘Lucky’ to have this evil woman forcing me to- to- to-_ ‘cheat’ _on_ Rapunzel _almost every single night?!_ He forced himself to take a deep breath but still seethed, “You guys have _no_ idea- why would you- _why_ on _Earth_ would you think I’m ‘lucky’ for this?!”

Given how upset his friend turned, Lance shrugged to offer an apologetic concession.

“I’d _rather_ be down here with you.” He settled back to resting his head between two bars.

“Yeah,” Hookfoot said sarcastically, “Least you _got_ a choice-”

“I DON’T.” Eugene snapped, then ignored him. “This is different. This is so different… _This_ is _not_ what marriage is supposed to be like. _Not_ at _all._ I’m still trapped here, too.”

Hookfoot crossed his arms and hmphed away.

Eugene turned where he sat. “Do you understand how this works?” he barked at him. “ _You_ guys are here for _collateral._ If _I_ run \-- hell, if I even piss them off enough -- they’ll _kill_ you. ”

“Eugene,” Lance quietly directed, “Look. I know you’re feelin’ down, and I _know_ you miss the Princess. But you _gotta_ get a letter out. If not for your sorry ass, then at least let _us_ have a chance to be ransomed!”

Eugene was taken aback. _And leave me here alone?! Well, guess it may not matter, really..._ He sighed and looked away. 

Lance calmly tried to encourage him. “If _she_ were here right now, what would she say?”

Eugene’s head began swimming, with how different every circumstance would be if he and Rapunzel were switched. If she had been kidnapped and forced to marry an evil baron’s asshole son somewhere. _Well, actually that doesn’t sound much different than the way politics usually work, but- but she’s the girl-_ His stomach twisted. _That’s… worse, right? But still, more- ‘normal?’ Ugh..._ “I-... I dunno…” _And she’ll_ always _be at least a princess._

“She’d make some sappy speech, and turn that into a rallying cry of obstinance, about how she won’t stop”

Lance’s voice suddenly fell away from Eugene’s ears. _‘won’t stop. For every minute, for the rest of my life, I will fight! I will never stop trying to get away from you!’_ His mouth slowly fell open, watching the memory from a thousand miles away. “I’ll try,” he whispered, “If I’m careful, I… I could at least get something out.”

“That’s my man.” Lance clasped and shook his shoulder.

“What if it's intercepted?” Eugene worried.

“Then make it _not sound_ like it’s anything important.”

Staring blankly at the columns and rows of stone bricks that made up the dungeon sparked something. “Okay, yeah. I’ve got an idea. And when, when do you think? Tonight?”

“As soon as you can!”

“Bu- wha- What about Stalyan?”

Lance groaned. “Ugh. What about her?”

“Well, what if she gets suspicious?”

“Then make her _un-_ suspicious!”

“I can’t _do_ that!” His hands clawed down at air as he frustratedly complained.

“Maybe _Eugene_ can’t,” Lance answered coyly, “But Flynn Rider could.”

“Lance,” Eugene sighed and waved him off. “No, I’m losing myself enough as it is-”

“Listen to me.” He adjusted his grip to holding his trap muscle nearer his neck, and turned him back to face him. “ _You_ may not be Flynn Rider anymore, but you, _Eugene,_ are also not the same person you were when you were dating Stalyan 8 years ago. So now tell me again, why did you _start_ going by Flynn Rider?”

“Beee…caauuse it sounded cool?” He quirked his face, not following.

“Because _Flynn Rider_ could do all the things Eugene _couldn’t_. For that time when _Eugene_ wouldn’t’ve survived.”

Eugene stared at Lance, receiving the epiphany from him. He thought a moment, then made up his mind. “I gotta get you guys outta here.” He shook his head, exasperated. “Guys, this is crazy. I can’t believe I’m gonna do this. But we need Flynn Rider to save us.” He looked away down the hall, toward the lone guard standing watch at the door, reminiscing to another time it was suggested to him to actually choose to lean on the old mantle. _Cassandra…_ He smiled. _‘For someone who spent most of his life breaking the rules to get what he wants, you’re having an awful lot of trouble dealing with someone breaking the rules to get what HE wants.’_

“The Legend Returns,” Lance grinned.

Eugene grinned back, soaking up as much courage as he could from him.

“Besides,” Lance crossed his arms and shrugged. “Mr. The King still owes me for saving his life.”

Eugene’s grin flipped upside down into an exaggerated frown, but he did notice the jesting expression that came over Lance. “Yeah, yeah,” he smirked and brushed him off. But it was a new hold for his confidence in the old man. The King knew that he _and_ Lance had risked their lives in the snowstorm, in order to save him and the Queen.

“So come on,” Lance goaded, “Let’s see how you’re gonna tame that wild _Stalyan._ ”

Eugene wet his lips and loosened his face up, then sprang the smoulder on Lance. He even practiced looking deep into his eyes, while it was a friendly face. Eventually both men gave way to giggles. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

“Hrmm, you’re gonna _have to_ shave and fix the rest of your face up first. Still not as handsome as me, but you know.” Lance put his arms behind his head to lean back against the stone wall.

“Ah-” Eugene chuckled. “Neh-eh. _You’re_ second.” He shoved his shin away a little, all he could reach.

“Nope!” he shot back smugly.

“ _Nein._ ”

“ _Ani._ ”

“ _Non._ ”

“ _Iie._ ”

“ _Net._ ”

“ _Méiyǒu._ ”

Down the hall, the guard grunted out in despair. “Not again…”

* * *

Water was still running.

Mind racing. Quill dancing. Time chasing. Heart pounding. Ink splashing. Stomach reeling. Finally feeling, that he could get his life back.

Eugene had made sure to eat well at dinner, and the excitement and anticipation of something working out finally fueled his much-needed appetite. With the further help of a coffee he managed to snatch, his brain finally felt like it was sharp enough to be firing on regular cylinders. He had shaved and bathed immediately after, then left for the study to swipe supplies, just missing Stalyan in passing. Once he had returned, Stalyan was in the bath already. At the writing desk in the bedroom, he pulled out the pen, ink, and scrap paper that he hoped would not be missed, and set about actually figuring out how to write the message he wanted to transcribe. Eventually, he came up with:

> Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!  
>  -V.B.  
>  14783 91233710 155 16211021116 1713 1721115

The “v.b.” was an afterthought as he struggled to make it all work, and he was running out of time as her bath dragged on. He counted and counted again to double check everything. Satisfied, he tore the strip of paper off, rolled it up tightly, kissed it, and slipped it under a boot spat. The pair of which were tucked beside the bed as usual. The pen and ink were shoved into a cabinet below the desk. The rest of his scrap paper he gathered up, crumpled up, and tossed it into the lit fireplace. A few sticks of the poker, and he made quick work of destroying any evidence.

He whipped his shirt off and spread it out just-so to look casually tossed on the chaise. Standing bare-chested in front of the fire, he worked his arms around, stretched his legs out, then dropped to do push-ups, with both hands. He continued until he just barely felt himself break a sweat, then burpeed back up to his feet. It was just enough to give him a nice sheen, to look a little worked up and steamy. The suction of the tub emptying alerted him that time was up. Surveying his playing field once more, he turned down the bed covers.

_Champagne? Wine? Too much? Too much._

The finishing touch; he rustled up his hair, and casually sprawled out across the bed on his stomach. He hugged a pillow under his head, and forced himself to relax as if he had merely grown sleepy waiting for her all this time.

Eugene steeled his concentration, focusing on compartmentalizing, again. _Time to put ‘Eugene’ away for now. Nothing wrong with_ every _thing I’ve been able to reclaim about myself, but now’s not the time for any of that. This isn’t the real ME. This is just what I gotta do. I AM Flynn Rider, damn it, and I CAN do this, no problem._

He stirred only a bit when Stalyan finally re-entered the room. He heard her pause, then the quietest swish of her robe as she sauntered over to him. She brushed his bangs away from his face, genuinely startling him, but he was able to recover and make it look like she had startled him ‘awake.’

“Wooow,” she ran a finger along his smooth cheek.

“Ohhh, heyyy,” his sleepy voice softly moaned out. He picked his head up and yawned, then flopped it back down. His insides twisted in conflict. He relished being fawned over, but this he could do without.

She reached out to pet his cheek fully. “This is nice. Why’d you let it go for so long?”

He shrugged, barely looking conscious.

She chuckled at him. “Hey, Sleepyhead. You turning in already?”

Eugene thought to puppy dog pout cutely, but stopped himself. “Pfft,” he twisted his head in the pillow to look back and up at her, smirked, and decided instead on sultry. “Just waiting for _you._ ” He lazily waggled his eyebrows. 

“Huh, well, well,” she sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s with this new attitude? Or should I say _old_ attitude? Hm, welcome back.” 

He sighed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position beside her. His hand purposely settled on the bed, in between them. Acting shy, he twisted away while also leaning toward her, as he drew out sheepishly, “ _Welllll..._ ”

She smiled but eyed him suspiciously. “Mmwhat?”

“Nothing, I’ve just been thinking a lot, about what you said, you know?” His smile disappeared. “Thinking about what life would’ve been like if we’d made different decisions back then.” He sat up straighter, playing off a small realization. “If _I’d_ made a different decision. And,” he dipped his head in concession and shrugged, “You’re right.”

Her brow quirked. “Oh really? Right about what?”

“About them,” his voice strained. “And about _me_. About how it was never really gonna be the ‘happily ever after’ I thought it was.” He shook his head. “I mean, I can’t run a whole kingdom.” _Rapunzel would be legal head!_ “Privately, she- she would always say she needed me to just _wait_ for her _._ ” _Patient, of course, but why wait on at least getting engaged? Okay I guess really don’t know what that was about._ “And yeah, someone like me?” He tried to chuckle, but it came out pathetic. “No one would… I mean… The princess having my kids? No one would stand for that…” _But God I hope-..._

His old douchebag self stood in place for him in his dreams with Rapunzel. It was someone like _that_ , who he never wanted to see her with. But he also did not want to see her with him forever if she would regret it, if she was the least bit unsure. _I WAS pressuring her!_ He stared out into space, shocked how it all seemed to make sense. _‘No, no. I- I won’t,’_ he remembered her smiling. _...Never mind,_ _I’m still confused._

Stalyan half-frowned, sympathetically. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Remembering,” he quickly answered, then forced a crooked half smile. “ _Way_ back. Ya know, I do remember a lot from back then…” Part of his scrambled mind helpfully shuffled forward an otherwise forgotten memory; the time he felt the most genuinely accepted by the Baron. “Do you remember,” he chuckled lightly as he rubbed his eyes with one hand, “Ahh, d’you remember that time we got that Shiek to buy a building that didn’t exist?”

She chuckled with him, “And you almost screwed it up cuz of your ‘ _German!’_ ”

He laughed out a little louder than he had in a while. 

She smiled softly. “So, Flynn, you finally ready to settle down?”

 _Flynn._ His laughter came down believably. He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’d just thought, that if I changed my _name_ , that it would change _me._ ” His eyes got glassy and he got choked up. “That I would be good enough for- f-for _her._ ” He pursed his lips together hard, his whole body unexpectedly trembling at this rooted-in-truth, inside-out pain on full display. “I actually proposed to her. _Twice._ ” His voice squeaked, and he paused to let the obvious conclusion sink in, that those proposals were rejected. “But _you,_ Stalyan? You never stopped believing in _me._ ”

She reached out to cup his cheek, thumbing over the smooth. He slowly lifted his eyes to hers; his eyes that were glossed over, reflecting whatever she wanted to see. “Is this finally the Flynn Rider I’ve been missing?”

Eugene sniffled up a gasp. _YES!_ Defeatedly though, he nodded. “I was young and stupid back then, scared of settling down once it came down to it. I didn’t really want to leave, but I didn’t know what else to do.” His shoulders flopped, and he put on a puppy dog pout mixed with a little Simmer. “But I _did_ missyou, too.”

She bit the hook and returned the smile.

He gulped and moved in. He locked her eyes in place, then moved his eyes to her lips as his own soft smile puckered out. Nimble fingers moved her hair back over her ear. He leaned in.

He recited the meaningless sounds in his head three times before opening his mouth. With his eyes nearly closed, he said a small, hollow, “I love you,” to her lips, then closed his own over them.

She devoured him in turn, and for the first time since all those years ago, he opened that part of himself to her. He took her wrists and lifted them away, causing her towel to drop. In its stead, his hands swarmed to cover her bared skin, then to brush her light robe off her shoulders. His mind detached from his body as his mouth connected to hers.

Concentrating hard to not think, it was easy enough to step back into any brothel, to step back into 17, 18, 19. His experience was second nature still, in playing pretend and convincing people of his character, whether it be true or not. He could certainly convince _himself_ of a different life, especially a familiar life, for at least a night.

He laid her down, and then he lied to her, all evening long. Once she was well satisfied and sound asleep, _Flynn_ sneaked out the window.

* * *

_Eugene_ sneaked back in another window on the second floor, then down a hall, and proceeded to climb up dark, narrow, stone stairs around and around. 

The ravenry was in the highest tower, with four windows to the four directions. He used no light, to avoid unwanted attention. But once the door was secured behind him, he lit a candle he had brought. The startled rustling of feathers he had heard now had glowing eyes in the dim light. Dozens of eyes all around the room jerked around in pairs, studying him, with a few quietly squawking in curiosity. He gently shushed them.

Eugene took a deep breath, and slowly let it go. He began creeping around, holding the candle only as close as he needed to check each cage, searching for the one labeled “Corona.”

“ _Come on, come on… Where are you, baby… Ahah! Yesss!”_ He set the candle down on a nearby writing table, and snatched up the thick gloves he spotted there. However, on the table was also a wooden bin labeled “From Corona,” with a few old curled up notes. Eugene picked one up, and recognized Queen Arianna’s handwriting.

> “Good Tidings, Vardaros! We are overjoyed to announce that Our Long Lost Princess Rapunzel, has at long last returned home safely to Corona! We shall be hosting a week-long celebration, starting on the morn of the next full moon. All are welcome to attend. We hope you can join us in celebrating her miraculous return. Best wishes, King Frederic and Queen Arianna”

A smile grew on him as the happy blur of that week flew through his mind. He tossed it down and picked up another. This one’s handwriting he could not identify, but it did not look pleasant.

> “Vardaros. We have received your announcement for the wedding of _Eugene Fitzherbert_ and your daughter. Regards, King Frederic and Queen Arianna of Corona.”

He suspected it was Cassandra’s angry handwriting, but whoever it was, he was grateful for at least seeing his real name. Yet this one he flung back down into the bin. _They know--_ part of him reasoned, but he focused on his task at hand. _Can over-analyze that later._

Eugene fetched his own letter from under his boot spat and set it down. Then he put the gloves on, cautiously opened the bird’s cage, and carefully grabbed it. Once it felt secure, it stopped struggling. He whipped one glove off, and checked the ankle tag on the raven’s leg. He worked off the string-tied tag that doubly labeled its home as Corona. Once that was laying flat on the table, he popped open the small container on its anklet, slipped his tightly rolled up note inside, and capped it securely. Then he let go of the bird, but it fluttered around, gaining its balance on his hand, while he leaned away.

“ _Go on,”_ he whispered with a little jostle. It held its balance, but finally hopped off to the table, stole a mouthful of sunflower seeds from a nearby bowl, and flew away. Eugene stepped toward the window to watch it, but it instantly disappeared into the dark of the night. He took a deep breath, calming down a bit. _Well, it’s been sent. Now we’ll see what happens… Whether I’m still yours or not, bring me_ home, _Blondie..._

He was not quite finished just yet. He searched around for an inconsequential location name, possibly in the same direction as Corona. _Equis._ He snickered, only thinking back on his most recent excursion there and the mix up of _seals._ With both gloves on again, he removed the raven from the Equis cage, and headed back to the writing table. While the bird pecked away at the bowl of sunflower seeds, he carefully removed the “Equis” tag, and tied the “Corona’ tag onto this one. Then he placed it in the Corona cage. It seemed confused or possibly stubborn, so he reached his hand into the cage with some more sunflower seeds for it. _“Damn things’re too smart…”_

He immediately burned up the “Equis” tag with the candle’s flame, letting its ashes drift to the floor. Then he blew it out and headed back the way he had come.

He sneaked back into the bedroom, carefully watching Stalyan’s form in the bed. He slipped back under the covers, then settled in, getting ready to turn onto his side away from her.

“Mm, Flynn?”

His alarmed attention whipped to her. “Yeah?”

She turned over toward him and snuggled up to his chest.

Eugene’s arms wrapped around her, even as he frowned in dreadful worry. She seemed to fall right to sleep again, but he was left to lay awake and uncomfortable until he finally slipped into sleep from exhaustion. For better or worse, their plan was in motion.

* * *

“Hmm, morning, Handsome.”

Eugene woke at once and opened his eyes toward the sound. He threw himself into character in an instant. “Heyyy S-” _Sunshine…_ “Stal…” They kissed good morning, and as they got dressed, they drifted through the surreal motions. 

At breakfast, everything seemed as normal as what was passing for normal. The tension actually felt lessened after what he had staged the night before. Whether he did know or not, Eugene saw the Baron give him a knowing smile, which he returned with a cringe.

“So, Flynn,” the Baron commanded everyone’s attention. “Ready to get back to work already?”

His pulse thudded, merely from being addressed directly.

“I’ve got a _job_ for you. Somethin to get your _feet wet_ again.”

Eugene moved his head in his direction, but kept his eyes down at the old man’s plate. He heard himself say, wading through guts, “What’s the job?”

The rest felt like a blur.

* * *

Eugene reached the bottom of the stone steps, and slowed to a haunting stop. His stomach dropped and head went light. The books were still there; the stack had toppled over. Low on the horizon still, foggy sunlight poured in and filled the now-empty dungeon cells. He threw his hands up to his head, brushing his hair back, both in horror and as if that would help him see better. _I was risking THEIR lives last night! NO!_

Clacks of high-high-heels clicked on the steps behind him.

He whirled around. “Where’s Lance?!” he gasped, already hyperventilating. “And Hookfoot- and Shorty?!” he cried out louder.

Stalyan leaned against the door frame and inspected a fingernail. “Easy, Rider. They’re still alive.”

“Then where are they?!” he seethed in a frantic building rage.

She shrugged. 

They both saw the crack open up in him, from those emotions snapping. Yet he still had to play his part. “Stal- _love-_ _please,_ ” he whined. “They-”

She smirked mischievously at him again. “I thought you said I was right about them?”

“They’re my-” _friends._ He licked his lips and rolled his eyes and head around. _Step back._ “This is _Lance_ we’re talking about! You know how much he means to me! And Hookfoot’s just another thug- and Shorty’s got dementia! _They_ had no say on whether I deserved the princess or not!” Depressingly, he held a hand out as he shrugged to the side. “In fact, they’d probably agree with you.”

Stalyan sighed. “Relax.” She motioned to a servant sweeping. “They’re upstairs getting freshened up while they clean out down here.”

Eugene had not noticed the man. He finally began heaving sighs of relief, carefully watching how she watched him. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Come on,” she reached out for his hand and pulled him back upstairs.

He took her hand, and followed.

* * *

Anthony and Eugene climbed the steps to the wooden platform in the town square. A squad of the Baron’s regular guardsmen accompanied them, both surrounding the platform, and swarming into the crowd of townspeople.

Anthony made an announcement to commence the day of “tax” collection. He would take care of the actual business; Eugene was just there to observe and assist. Mostly he figured it was to get him used to how the family treated this city they had usurped. He kept his eyes peeled, but he was preoccupied grimacing in general, and darting his eyes all around, looking for any clue as to what had happened since they had first come upon Vardaros. But nothing looked out of this depressing new ordinary for the city.

“Hey! _Thief!_ ” 

Eugene instinctively looked toward the sound of the accuser’s voice, only to find it was one of the Baron’s guards who had shouted it to someone else. From his vantage point above the crowd, Eugene could see the single short skinny person darting through, trying to make their escape with a conspicuously loud jingling. Obliged to at least finish this day out in his captors’ good graces, he leapt from the stage to give chase.

Once they broke out of the crowd, Eugene could finally get a better look at the thief. And he recognized them. “ _YOU!!!_ ” he suddenly bellowed, and kicked up his pace to top speed. “Get back here, you little gremlin!” 

Black hair in braided pigtails, red tunic; it was the blade-selling girl who had lured them to the Baron’s trap to begin with. She looked back over her shoulder, and gasped when she recognized him as well.

Around three blocks later, she took a corner too wide and slowed as she tried to navigate between some people and a cart, heading down into an alleyway. Eugene barrelled through the people, knocking everyone over together, sending the bag of coins flying down the alley. But in the fray, he never lost sight of her. He grabbed her arm in a death grip and, as he stood up, whipped her against the wall, pinning her upper arms.

They stood gasping and glaring at each other while they caught their breath.

“Where’d she- what happened to her?!” he screamed in her face.

“That annoying girl?” she rudely sassed him.

“That _girl_ is the Princess of Corona, and the love of my life!”

She smirked. “Coulda fooled us.”

“ _Kiiid!_ ” Eugene warned, getting even more aggravated. Inside his glove, he was reminded of the clunky metal around his finger.

“Look,” she groaned. “I dunno. And I duncare.”

“What were you-” He shook his head. “Why did you even DO that?! I know you don’t know me, but so you just sold a complete stranger out, _to the Baron?!_ You live here- you _must_ know what kind of person he is!”

The girl continued glaring at him. “Yeah, so? _You_ musta done something to cross _him._ And it was coin for another day!”

Eugene felt his anger melt away as he studied the girl’s face and listened to the insight she just gave into her life. He remembered what that kind of life was like, and he remembered the other little girls he had caught. “Angry…” he realized quietly.

This girl quirked a brow, though. “Excuse me?”

He shook his head clear. “Just, what happened to her that day?”

She rolled her eyes. “She and her _girlfriend_ went around the whole town asking for you. But then they just left.”

He bit his lip. “Did you tell them anything?”

She grunted, “No.”

 _Whether she learned that day or by the announcement letter, she knows… Will she even want to come for me?_ “Did she say _any_ thing else? Maybe something about that morning, or about a decision…?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” she sneered.

Eugene sighed heavily and hung his head. He released his hold on her, and turned to stoop and pick up the bag of coins she had spilled. He collected the stray ones, and shuffled three out into his hand. He turned back to the girl, who was still standing there, cautiously, but curious. “Here,” he thrust his hand out to her.

She made a disgusted face. “I don’t need your _charity!_ ”

Eugene frowned, grabbed her wrist, and smacked the coins into her hand. “Yeah. Ya do.”

She looked at him like he had ten heads, but pocketed the coins anyway.

He pursed his lips, and jerked his head over his shoulder.

She still gave him a cockeyed look, but she did seize the invitation and scampered away down the alley.

Eugene sighed. He looked down at the bag of coins in his hand, then dropped his arm back down in despair. _Skipping town with a bag full of gold just means forfeiting the guys’ lives._ He trudged back out the way he had come, scanning the area. On a wall right beside him, one of his old wanted posters leapt out at him. Eyes wide, he walked over to it and touched it. He pouted at his visage’s cocky smile, then stared at the Corona Magistrate’s seal, and felt tears well up. “Blondie,” he spoke to himself. “You saw the real me, and you loved me anyway…” _‘Someone like me’ -- maybe I didn’t always do my absolute best, but you know I wanted to._ “I’m sorry I screwed everything up…” _I’m saying I was young and stupid at 19; well she’s only 19!_ He sniffled everything back down and dropped his hand from the poster. _There is so much I wish I’d done differently… I was_ just _trying to hold on to what we had._ “I tried…”

He took his sweet time winding back through the streets, but eventually came upon the townsquare again. 

“Well, well,” Anthony slithered, “Flynn Rider. Loyal to the Baron after all.”

Eugene threw daggers at him as he marched back over with the recovered bag. He tossed it back atop the pile in the cart, then climbed up into the front seat. He slouched there with crossed arms and one foot up on the bar. “Let’s get moving, Weasel.”

Anthony’s lips curled up in sinister approval.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Stalyan was busy with her father, and Eugene was left to entertain himself. Fearful of screwing up the pair’s good mood, he kept himself away from Lance and the guys. They would all want to discuss possible plans of action, and he did not want to risk this shot. So he ventured outside alone.

Eugene counted out the length of rope in his arms. His heart was heavier than the whole of it combined, yet he felt empty even as his arms were full. In each end, he tied a hard knotted loop, leaving one wrapped around his wrist; the only way he wanted his hands tied. He played with whipping some of it around back and forth, to get the feeling back in his wrists, to stretch out his not-too-old muscle memory. Once he had practiced enough, he sent it sailing up about fifty feet, and lassoed a small spire, just like she had taught him. He tugged once for good measure, then, not losing a moment, he hopped up onto the rope to climb it. His eyes did not see the rope at all; it was golden to him. His hands felt silky strands, not sisal. His feet swung freely, as his arms and back and core did all the work, politely leaving his boots away from the radiant beauty, whether it really was only his imagination or not. He kept looking up, expecting to see her, but saw only the colorful streaks of pink and purple in the sky from the setting sun, and somehow that did not seem disappointing. He knew she had come from the sun, and that she loved him, so surely the sun smiled on him with her love, too. Even if she herself had vanished from his sight.

He felt his heart rate relax, his muscles untense, and the greatest sense of calm washed over him since their first night outside of Corona. He reached the top and found his footing without even thinking, and began collecting the rope up again. Again, he loosed it up to a higher spire, and climbed up to that one. Nowhere near the top, but with a new rampart below him, his lungs at last felt light as a feather. Sweat had broken through, but he inhaled his first breath of fresh air as if just emerging from being trapped in  the depths of the sea. So soothed was he, that he let go, and fell the short drop back to that rampart.

He landed on his feet well enough, and looked around in awe. His mind had emptied but for two places he needed to know the direction of: The castle he had decided was truly his destiny, and the tower he knew he had been meant to find. The rope swung by his face and he grabbed it. Intent inside his fantasy, he took both ends, and shot one over to a spire still slightly higher. Immediately, he swung down with the other end, but had not calculated a landing spot, so this time he rolled out on a terrace as he hit the floor of it. Lost in memories of hours of practice, he threw his wrist out behind him to unhook the loop off of its hold; at the same time he leapt to his feet. Swiftly his hand switched to the other end of the rope. He stepped carefully, imagining her air-dancing right alongside him. He smirked, hearing her giggling as he tried to keep up with her.

The midpoint of the rope looped around the highest ornamental crocket of the highest spire; one slipknot around a barrel of tar pitch; the other around his forearm. He drop-kicked the barrel off the ledge. His arm was yanked up and the rest of him followed, flying up into the sky, to the very top of the castle. 70 feet below, the barrel cracked apart. As he held onto one of the crockets, another supporting a foot, he transferred the loop from his arm around the pinnacle, then leapt off. Holding onto the rope, he swung around and slowly down the entire turret, his toes stretching out as far as centripetal force whisked them and as high as gravity would allow. His eyes drifted almost closed; with both hands on the rope, he let his body hang but kicked up his legs, channeling her spirit that very first day, that day he had ignored it, but now finally understanding the absolute need for physical manifestation of that freedom.

Slowly, he came to settle out on a water spout, crouched on one knee with his other leg hanging freely down below. His head was spinning, light, and high, but the kind of high he got from dancing with her, or kissing her, or just seeing her smile. He had determined Corona was east of his position, and so he was facing eastward, watching the sky grow darker in the distance as the sun set at his back. But he smiled. “It’s up to you, Sunshine.”

Far, far in the distance, a light rose in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A.N:** Studio’s been going well but is nerve racking, and all the (real!) wedding bs just got compounded again. Like, _This is some kinda joke, right?_ My life is hanging one thread away from Total Mess. So, sorry it took relatively way too long to get this uploaded. But also, do you know how lucky you are I didn’t leave you without that last line?
> 
> _Follow me at MiraNova23 on tumblr!_


	5. Extra Time for Good Behavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A.N.:** So, I realized, I… still have another Norseman device… And I finally thought of another marriage-prison saying thing, so I was able to get another chapter in! Sorry/Psych, this is the next-to-last chapter.
> 
> Btw, have you noticed the sun-moon symbolism in the show? The fan theories about it all and the Dark Kingdom are fun.
> 
> Enjoy!

_**\- Chapter 4 -** _

**Extra Time for Good Behavior**

Eugene lay in bed, the almost-full moonlight streaming in brightly, the pale blue light spilling over everything it could touch. He stared into the pools of it on the floor, shifting as the wind blew tree branch shadows around. He hung on the edge of the bed, resenting with great disgust the feeling of physical satisfaction. She had long fallen asleep on her side behind him. But still he did not see a point to getting up and wandering aimlessly another night. So, he continued watching the moonlight and the shadows playing in it.

_The reflection of the sun… Everything's wrong about it. It's cold here. Everything's dead. I need the Sun herself here, to give me life again… Moon's nothing without her..._

While he  _day_ -dreamed of waxing poetic about the sun and moon and light and darkness and love and death, his senses were not on high alert for once. So it startled him, when he noticed scratching at the door. His heart rate instinctively picked up, yet again, sending his nerves rattling, even though he knew the evil mistress who was usually the cause, was laying right behind him. His eyes darted around, and then over towards the scratching as far as he could see, which was only to the foot of the bed, while the door was also to his back.

The scratching turned into shuffling, and his mind raced to rationalize it.  _Rats. All this opulence and there's_ rats  _in the bedrooms?!_  Yet his nerves would not let him go. Something about the unusual occurrence made him pay close attention.  _Maybe she's not really asleep behind me - And then again, I've been here how long now, and never seen any sign of rats? Or mice? Not even in the dungeon..._

Suddenly, the scratching and shuffling gave way to popping a tiny squeak out.

Eugene's mind clicked back to a brief glimpse of normalcy and his heart soared with joyous recognition, before he could even consciously think about what he had just heard.

The quadruped footsteps, of grippy scales and little claws, waddled across the tile.

Trying to contain himself to keep from bursting, he bit his lips together and breathed sharply through his nose. Ever so carefully, he lifted the covers back off of himself as he sat up, as he had done so many times before, to sneak out of bed without disturbing her. He snatched his pants and threw them on, to save his poor little friend more embarrassment than he had already given him in their time knowing each other. The waddling stopped with an abrupt gasping squeak, followed by annoyed whirring.

Eugene turned around and stepped to the end of the bed to see the glinting of two angry eyes coming out of a tiny black lump inside a shadow on the floor.  _I know what you're thinkin, but-_  he grinned full and wide, and quietly padded over himself. " _Sh, sh, sh…"_ he barely breathed while gesturing to calm down with one hand up. He bent down and reached for him, but his hand was tail-whipped away. " _-ah!_ " He recoiled and shook his hand out. " _It's not what it looks like, I promise._ "

He grumbled out some chattering, and rolled his eyes, ending in a glare.

Eugene could not help but keep grinning. Swiftly, he scooped him up anyway and held him tight, with his thumb over his lips. " _You're already cold-blooded, so just chill out._ " He glanced back over his shoulder to Stalyan; still facing away from them, most likely still asleep. " _Comon…_ "

He slipped him into his otherwise empty change purse, then looped it and his belt back onto his pants. He eased the window open, and with one last check on Stalyan, he was out. He climbed up the lintel to the next cornice and so on until he reached the rooftop. There, he sat on the slant, and opened his change purse.

He crawled out and into his waiting palms, kelly green once again.

"Pascal!" Eugene lifted him up to his face and nudged their foreheads together. "Oh, God," he whined, as his emotions finally poured out. He pursed his lips in a pained smile and looked him in the eye. "I know you're mad at me, but I am  _sooo_ happy to see you, you have  _no_  idea."

Pascal did look happy to see him, too, but also concerned and wary at best. He squeaked and whirred in confusion.

Eugene took another deep breath, as if a weight had physically been lifted off his chest. "I know, this looks bad. But I can explain. Pascal, I swear, I  _don't_ wanna be here. We got kidnapped and then they poisoned Lance and Stalyan forced me to-"

Pascal interrupted with a confused chirp.

Eugene sighed. "That woman down there, her name is Stalyan, and she's…" He gritted his teeth and sighed again. "Her and her dad… They forced me to marry her, in order to save Lance."

Pascal squeaked in shock, his eyes growing wide and horrified, darting all around Eugene's face, as everything quickly came together.

"I know, I  _know_. I am  _soo_  sorry, Buddy. But you, of all-  _people-_  know how much I love Rapunzel. I still love her, I swear to God I love her!" He cringed. "With all my  _heart_. I never wanted any of this…" He held his breath, took a moment to choke back falling apart, then finally let it go in a sad chuckle. "Oh man, it feels so good to finally say all that again. To someone who won't-..." He rubbed his cheek and hung his head. "I just wish- Wait!" He jerked his head up. "Pascal-" He looked to him with almost wild eyes. "You're here-" It finally fully hit him. "Is Rapunzel here- like,  _here?!_  Where is she?!"

Pascal looked at him harshly, eyeing him up and down.

"Please, please,  _pleeease_ , Pascal!" he begged. "Is she here? Is she safe? Did you guys make it to the end of the rocks, or did you go back to Corona?"

Pascal rolled his eyes and nodded reluctantly.

"Wait," Eugene shook his head. "I'm sorry, first question. Is she safe?"

He turned pleased as Eugene corrected his error, and nodded proudly.

With a small breath of relief, he continued. "Is she here?"

He nodded.

Eugene squealed as his grin returned and he danced in his seat. " _Yes!_  Oh God, she IS here…" Suddenly he gritted his teeth and cringed. "Not _here_  as in, here in the mansion, is she?"

Pascal shook his head.

Eugene blew out a breath in relief. "She really- She came for  _me?_ "

He nodded again, but pointed at Eugene, and then rolled his paw.

"And Lance, and Hookfoot, and Shorty- yup, they're all here. In the dungeon, but they're doin' fine. Lance recovered without issue. God," he looked out around the landscape. "She's really here, out there somewhere…"

Pascal chirped to get him to focus.

"Oh, right, sorry. Um, so did you guys go back to Corona?"

Pascal nodded yet again.

"Do you know if she got my letter? 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair?'"

He nodded.

Eugene pursed and licked his lips. "Does she what me back?"

Pascal half-frowned, then shrugged toward him.

"What's that- What is that? Is that- it depends on ME?"

He nodded, still half-frowning.

"Well, I don't know if she thinks I deserve it, but," nerves rocked him forward and back a bit, "I  _want_  her to not be upset..." As dirty as he felt, he could never deny how desperate he was for her healing touch. "I just want  _her,_ " he whimpered. "But I understand if she doesn't…"

This time Pascal perked up and smiled, before shooting his tongue out, stamping a small folded paper note onto Eugene's bare shoulder.

"Gah!" Eugene recoiled, but took hold of it. He set Pascal on his opposite shoulder, then opened the note. It was just a few simple words. "Pascal, this is just a list. There's no numbers, or  _any_ other descriptors for that matter…" He did look up and scanned the land near and far again. "And I don't see any sign of  _any_ of this…"

Pascal warbled in his ear, then walked down his arm back into his lap. He motioned for the paper, and Eugene lowered it so that they could both see. With tiny green digits, he pointed to the first item, then looked up to his face. He held up 2 fingers, then switched to hold up 3 right beside that.

"23?"

Pascal got excited and chirped then continued on down the list.

"23 infantry?" Eugene asked incredulously. "So 23 men?"

Pascal shook his head.

"23 infantry  _troops?!_  Pascal, are you serious?"

He nodded.

"And if I'm remembering correctly, that means," he took a deep breath. " _230_   _men?_ "

He nodded smugly.

" _Twenty-_ three. Infantry  _troops._ " Eugene stared at the list. "And there's  _more?_ "

He nodded smugly again.

Eugene's mouth hung open and his eyes bugged out.

They repeated the process down the list. By the time they finished, he was full on crying. 230 infantry, 160 archers, 7 cannons, 4 bomb experts.

"So, she sent you in here, for reconnaissance?" He scanned the list one more time, committing it to memory, then tore it up, careful to shred each word, and stuffed the scraps in his pocket. "I'll burn it later." He rested his arms on his knees, then leaned his chin on his arms. "You had to check if I'd really betrayed Corona; betrayed  _her._ " He shook his head, then drooped to leaning his forehead on his arms. "She's smart. She's so smart."

He looked to his tiny green friend. "Guess I need to find a sneaky way to reply." He smirked. "How long did it take you to get to me? Like, what time did you leave camp?"

Pascal made some more gestures.

"Wait,  _Owl_  dropped you off?! Sheesh. That sounds scary." He pet his head. "Don't worry. You rest, and I'll get you back to her, somehow, regardless… Do you have a way to signal Owl to come back?"

He whirred and squeaked before flashing white.

_Oh, of course!_ Eugene chuckled at him. "Alright, well, I don't have anything to write with up here."

"Nothing to write with?" Stalyan chuckled as she climbed up the last edge.

Eugene turned white as a ghost this time, and Pascal turned black as the roof tile. Eugene leaned his hand in front of him. "Stal! Hi! Uh, you uh, startled me." He tried to laugh it off.

She found his eyes; hers had a romantic look in them that he quickly reciprocated. With Pascal at his hip, he felt some old courage regained. She crawled up in her pink striped sleeping clothes and sat next to him. "Hey, Stranger," she cooed as she bumped his shoulder.

Eugene smiled at her, then looked up at the moon, praying. "I was just feelin' a bit poetic, so I came up here for a better view, but then was like, darn, wish I had something to write this all down with." He chuckled off his fabricated frustration, acting simply embarrassed over poetry. "Like,  _urgh!_  Ya know?" he swung his fists across each other.

"No," she chuckled. "I don't really get hit with inspiration to write  _poetry_  about the  _moon_  very often."

_Yeah, you wouldn't be caught dead being interesting._ Eugene rolled his head. "I  _know_ , I  _know_ , it's embarrassing." He saw an opportunity to toss her a seductive smirk, and did so. "You've always been so much cooler than me."

She blushed, believing it.

Pascal crouched beside where Eugene sat, nervously watching. The change purse sat on the other side of his waist, in between the humans. He jumped when a large hand slowly came to rest atop him, but allowed it, and even settled into the curve of the fingers.

"But look at it," he said low and rumbly, even as he moved his face closer to hers and his eyelids lowered.

She eyed his advance shyly, but she did look up to the moon.

"It's almost full," he commented right before his mouth sucked in the flesh of her neck. He heard her gasp and moan, and as he twisted in his seat, he whisked Pascal across his lap and right into the change purse. He just prayed the fiend did not vocally object to  _how_  he had distracted her. His hand took the pretense of being leaned on in between them. Betting it was safe, he released her neck.

As soon as they looked at each other again, they heard an angry coo from above. Owl swooped down with his talons out, and headed straight toward Eugene's face.

" _Ahhh!_ " Stalyan screamed as she jumped away, watching Eugene swat at the fluffy little bird currently entangled in his hair.

"Grr, what the-! Stupid  _Owl!_ " With one good swipe, Owl caught his eyebrow. " _Gagh!_ " The rush of pain kicked him into survival mode, and the back of his hand landed squarely on the predator. Then he rushed to cover his eyes.

Owl spiraled quite some distance away, but recovered. Although, he did not return. He headed out towards a cluster of trees.

Eugene was left hissing and groaning at the sting, and an unwelcome idea.  _If Owl could see me up here, can Cass or Blondie see me right now?!_

"Here, here lemme see," Stalyan offered.

Helpless to examine his own eye, Eugene accepted the offer. He lowered his hands, revealing a deeper red gash flanked by two smaller lines. Around his other eye, many tiny scratches marked him up. He carefully opened his eyes; at least they were okay. He steadied his breathing, but reached to gingerly touch around the wound, feeling out the gash.

"Oooh..." She sucked air in through her teeth as she cringed. "Yowch. Here, come on, let's get that patched up." She took his left hand to guide him to follow.

Eugene whipped it away. " _No!_ " he snapped, before he even knew why. "No, I'm  _fine_." He turned his face away, covering the wound.

"But I can help," she argued. "If you don't treat that, it won't heal right-"

"I don't want your heal-" he stopped abruptly, breathing hard from the confrontation it had become, leftover adrenaline rush, and the visceral memory he finally recognized.

' _Here, show me your hand.'_

' _What? It's nothing. I'll be fine.'_

' _Well, it'll help me explain…'_

' _Explain what?'_

' _It won't hurt, I_ promise _.'_

He remembered how the warmth had tingled into his hand and felt so tender and loving.  _Wish I had ANY of that right now._ "I don't need your  _help,_ " he sharply corrected as he felt tears sting his eyes, sticking to his lashes.

Stalyan hmphed him, then began climbing down.

Eugene sighed. "I'll be right down." He latched the strap on the change purse, and followed.

They climbed back into the bedroom with ease, and Stalyan headed straight for the bed.

Eugene pointed towards the bathroom. "I'm just gonna go take care of this."

She ignored him.

"Um, good night."

She still ignored him.

Eugene shook his head.

With the bathroom door locked, he released Pascal onto the sink vanity. He waddled out onto it, then turned to look up at him. He squeaked with great concern at seeing the scratches.

"Yeah," Eugene whispered, "Courtesy of Cass _a_ ndra's little Cretin. She taught him to 'go for the eyes' alright." He scrutinized it himself in the mirror. "Awgh, man. This wasn't supposed to happen."

As he cleaned his face and treated the one gash that had drawn blood, he muttered about different timeline ideas to Pascal. Since she had lost the easy magical ability to heal, she had studied some simple ways of promoting healing the normal way, and so he had learned by proxy. He washed it out with soap and found a salve to apply, then wrapped a long bandage around his head to cover it, at least for the night.

"Alright. So. That's it then?" he confirmed.

Pascal squeaked and gave a thumb's up.

"Tomorrow I can get a note written, then figure out a way I can sneak you back over to her, with that note explaining- well, as much as I can. In case it's intercepted, it can't make sense to anyone else. Then YOU need to deliver it, and ask her to send a note back with what  _time_  shit's gonna go down."

Pascal nodded determinedly.

Eugene smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks little buddy." He pat his head. "Ya know, you're the only other one whose opinion really matters. Only you and I knew her before she was  _the princess_."

He puffed his chest out in pride.

Eugene sighed. "I'm glad you- well, I'm glad  _we_  warmed up to each other, way back when."

Pascal smiled softly at him.

Eugene smiled back. "And by the day after tomorrow, we should all be together again. Matching R, E, and P sweaters and all."

Pascal turned serious again and saluted him.

Eugene chuckled, "Sure," and saluted him back. "Whatever that makes me, I'll be leading on this side."  _I guess a double agent?_ "Anyway, until I can safely get you back to her,  _don't_  let Stalyan see you, ya know?"

He agreed.

"You uh," he licked his lips, "You're used to that, aren't you? From  _her?_ "

He half frowned and nodded.

Eugene sighed again and reached out his hand for Pascal to crawl into. "C'mere." He lifted him back up to his face as bit his lip. "Pascal, just like- like her birthday- where it looked like I'd- like I  _had_ traded her for the crown?" He nodded quickly. "I  _promise,_ no matter what you see or hear, I haven't cha-... I'm- I'm still  _Eugene._ I'm still  _Rapunzel's_ Eugene. So can  _you_ _promise me,_  that you won't let her give up on me?"

Pascal cringed with Eugene, fully sympathizing and understanding. He stiffened his bottom lip and nodded.

"Thank you," he gasped.

* * *

" _RIDER!_ " he heard her battle cry from down the hall.

One eye popped wide open; the other still smushed in the pillow. He had actually been sleeping peacefully, but suddenly his adrenaline was pumping full throttle.  _She found them!_  The instant panic was too much; he could not even try to pretend he was still asleep. He yanked the bandage off his head, and waited and listened.

The door was flung open and she began marching in. Eugene tossed the covers back and bolted up in bed, shirtless, with his hair disheveled, and looking more nervously guilty than ever in his life. Stalyan's face was fuming at him already. He shuddered. "What did I  _do?_ " he whined out like a little kid. He knew how carefully his reaction would be judged. He clutched the comforter and wrung it in his hands.

"Your  _precious princess_ is here," she spat out, glaring at him venomously.

He did a double take, blinking in surprise. "Wha…" he gasped as his jaw fell slack. He pulled the comforter up to his chest a little. "Wait," he shook his head, "What do you mean, 'she's  _here?_ '"  _Yeah, update, please?_   _I was actually sleeping well for once. Here as in you spotted her or is she already attacking? Details, woman! I need details!_

"Her and some more of your 'new friends' are here playing envoy with her."

He narrowed his eyes. "How many?"

She narrowed hers with a fresh scowl. "Why do you ask?"

"Just- I mean," he shook his head, "I'm worried about you and all-"

She sighed reluctantly. "Looks like just 3 of them."

He sighed with relief, sympathizing with her. "Stal, I told you, you were right about her-"

She rolled her eyes and neck, then lunged for him.

He instinctively backed away, but she caught a fistfull of hair. " _AHHHGH!_ " She yanked downward, then pulled his face upward to force him to look her in the eye. He cringed as he held the awkward pose with her. "WHAT! What do you expect  _me_  to do?!"

"I  _expect_ you to betray us. Again."

"But- but I'm married to  _you!_  There's  _nothing_  in Corona for me anymore!"

"That I had to twist your arm to say 'I do!'"

"Honey, come on already!" He finally put his hands on her wrists, timidly. On her free hand, she shirked him off. "I did it though and I've been trying to make the best of it with you! It's not  _my fault_ she showed up again!"  _Dear Lord, thank you for listening to me, Blondie!_

She roughly shoved him away; he crumpled into the covers before sitting back up. She pointed her finger out at him. "You get dressed. You go downstairs. And you ride out with us to meet these little unwelcome guests."

"Yes," he gasped. "Yes, okay?" He gulped. "Stal, I missed you so terribly when I left you last time. But we're finally here," he scrambled to his feet and urgently took her face in his hands, "Just like we had planned so long ago. I just want to move on with my life- with  _our_  life. Okay?"  _I'll say anything to get you to not hurt anybody else!_  "Forget them."

She gripped his wrists, threateningly. "You need to prove that. Convince them, and make them go away."

"Anything," he immediately gave her. "And then we can be together."

She smirked. " _Promise_  me."

"I  _promise_ ," he swore with a deeper voice, but without a single thought. Inside, he wanted to laugh in her face. He counted off his other promises.  _'I won't leave you.' Swearing allegiance to Corona. 'Be patient with me.' 'We'll be back.' 'I'll take care of her.'_  He shook his head, as if to clear it. _Stal, the only thing I promise_ you _is that you're done!_ He confidently looked her in the eye. "It's you an' me now."

She scrutinized him carefully.

"I  _swear_  to you," he switched one hand from her cheek to her neck, and pulled her in for a small kiss. "Let me stay with you."

"Alright then," she said more softly and smirked. "Dress sharp."

"I will," he smiled and nodded.

She turned and left, watching over her shoulder as she did. Eugene's attention followed her, til the door closed again.

He finally took a deep breath and slouched back onto the bed. He rubbed his face clear.  _"What're you_ doin' _Blondie?"_ he whispered quietly to himself. Then he looked all around the room.  _"Pascal?!"_ he hissed with worry straining him.  _"Where are you? We gotta move!"_

His squeak replied from the dresser, right where he had left his belt. Black as the leather, Pascal waddled out, attentively awaiting orders.

Eugene squeed. He ducked to pick him up in both hands, twirled him around, and kissed the top of his head."We're heading out to see her! God I hope she doesn't hate me. You have to make her understand, alright?"

Pascal nodded eagerly and smiled.

He set him back down near the change purse, then turned to the mirror to fix his hair.

He bounded over to rifle through the drawers for something to wear, while he tried to focus. He tossed a few things onto the bed, then switched and bounded over to the desk to write. He quickly scrawled…

__

> _Welcome to Opposite Day._

He half smiled to himself, then tore it off the larger piece. He folded the note all up, then stashed the rest of that sheet between the wall and the piece of furniture. He stuffed the note into the change purse, to the sound of a startled peep. Then he resumed changing clothes.

* * *

Eugene and Stalyan waited in a hall for her dad to join them. She idly stood with hips cocked and arms crossed. Eyes narrowed and brooding, Eugene watched her from behind, as he leaned sideways against the wall with arms crossed as well, trying to keep focused in character. He tried to watch her through Flynn Rider's eyes.

The "sharp" outfit he had found was a long sleeve black dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, a red satin waistcoat with a black floral pattern embroidered and two columns of copper buttons, and a high-collared long black dress coat over it all. He retained his usual two belts, black pants, black gloves, and black boots to complete it, suiting his dour mood.

Finally he pushed up off the wall. "Babe?" He took her by the elbows and turned her towards him. "You okay?"

"I'm  _fine._ " She turned her head away.

He chuckled at her, and pulled her against him for a hug. "Ah-huh. Sure."

"It's just- I was here  _first._ "

He took a deep breath. "I know." He kissed her forehead, then morphed that into a more sensual hold with his mouth on her ear. "Acuerdas de  _Costa Gravãs?_ "

A smirk popped up on her face, melting her in his arms.

"Hm-hmmm," he smiled against her temple where she could feel it. "Those  _steamy nights_  there, eh? I was so  _jealous_ of those nationalists you got to dance with."

She giggled. "You spilled wine all over the host, you were so distracted- over me and a guy who wasn't even attracted to women!"

He smirked and blushed as he rolled his eyes. "Well  _I_ didn't know that at the time!" he chuckled back. Then he tilted her chin up. "But my point is, I've wanted you for a very long time. And now I finally have you."  _Riiight where I want you._ He guided her in for a kiss. "I won't let anything get in the way of us again."  _'Us' being me and Rapunzel. You just keep following the piper._ He smiled at Stalyan, brushing her hair back.

She was finally beaming back at him, full of trust and admiration.

"Alright," the Baron walked up, "Let's get going."

Eugene followed Stalyan toward the door to outside, but behind him, the Baron grabbed the whole shoulder of his coat, and yanked him back against the wall with a thud and an " _Ooof!_ "

"You listen here,  _Rider_ ," he growled in his face. He held him in place with one hand, but Eugene also did not struggle. The Baron continued, "Any  _funny business_ , and I have my men kill every. single. one. of your friends here, before you can even turn your horse around. Behave, be a good sport, and I'll  _think_  about not killing these ones we're going to meet."

Eugene did not stop the sheer terror showing in his eyes at the threat.  _He might not mean ALL of that- but he is itching to kill_ someone.  _He wants to_ start _so I know he means business, then he'll use the rest as mercy tokens._  He blinked hard as he felt awful for being able to recognize the evil train of thought.

"Do I make myself  _clear?_ "

He gulped. "Crystal," he eked out. "Yes. Yes, Sir." He nodded profusely. As he walked out to the horse prepared and waiting for him, his legs felt like jello and his head light.  _Dear God, Blondie- I can't screw this up…!_

"Flynn?" the Baron called from his own horse.

Eugene was too engrossed in his own thoughts, going a mile a minute flying around his head. He realized with a delay that 'his' name had been called. He popped his head up. " _Qué?_  I was just, uh-" He held up the reigns he had been straightening out.

"Why don't you lead us out, son?" the Baron firmly requested.

"I'm sorry,  _me?_ " But he knew it was not a question. He took a deep breath, shot Stalyan a nervous smile, and goaded his horse to start off leading the way down the entry road.  _If he's testing me, I really don't have a clue._  "So, where are we meeting them?"

"Outside the city, on the first hill."

Eugene thought back a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Then let's move."

* * *

As they left the city and bore right, three distant figures, also on horses, came into view around the canyon wall. They stood on a great flat grassy plain atop this slight hill. Eugene's heart thudded and his blood ran cold again. He felt his knees shaking as they gripped his horse, but whether it was even from fear or excitement, he could not tell. He could tell that the center figure had to be the Captain, and the other two must then be Cassandra, and the  _Princess_. Eugene pinned his line of sight down to the knob of his saddle, with occasional side glances to the dirt right in front of his horse. As he got closer and closer, his heart felt faint, and he had to concentrate on not tipping to one side or another in the saddle.  _They must be able to see it's_ me _by now!_

When he figured he was a decently short distance in front of them, he abruptly turned left, to line up opposite them. He had opted for pairing across from Cassandra rather than getting too close to his love. Stalyan behind him and the Baron followed suit lining up.

Eugene kept his eyes cast down, staring down to his left, away from everyone. His hands gripped the edge of his saddle for dear life. His bones burned as he forced himself to not even look at his Dream. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the fuchsia of her dress, the gold of her hair. He fought to keep his eyebrows from pinching in on themselves, forced the corners of his mouth to not frown.  _It's for everyone's sakes, my Sunshine. It's for_ your  _sake. But my God, you're really here- you really came!_

" _Eugene?!_ " Rapunzel's cracking, high pitched, pleading voice opened the conversation, tearing his soul to pieces. Through blurry tears, she had trained her gaze upon him, and could not look away.

_Blondie…!_ His heart leapt out. Eugene bit the inside of his lip, knuckles turning white inside his gloves, and neck stiffening. For the first time ever, her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to him; it was painful to listen to, and hard to ignore, like he had to.

Cassandra stared narrow ice beams into all of Eugene, but Stalyan threw them back at Rapunzel. The Captain's stone glare hit everyone equally. Beneath Rapunzel, Max snarled, ready to breathe fire at Eugene. Cassandra rode Fidella, who just looked sad.

Eugene's eyes fluttered and he took a deep breath, but he did not lift his head at all. His right arm moved across himself, pressing in on his stomach. It looked like he was gripping his side; but his hand merely gently covered his change purse.  _Pascal, you're my only hope here!_

"I see you had a run in with Owl," Cassandra smirked.

Eugene only tucked his head down in more, but wanted to laugh about it.  _CanNOT believe I even miss YOU._

The Baron smirked. "My new son-in-law, Flynn Rider, and my daughter and I, can't help but wonder, what on earth, is the Crown Princess of Corona doing here, and looking  _so upset?_ "

"His  _name_ is Eugene Fitzherbert," Rapunzel retorted.

Eugene bit the inside of his lip again.  _Yes!_

With no response from anyone, though, she collected herself for some professional talk. "And I am here because we suspect you are holding several of my subjects hostage, and I want them  _back_."

_Back?_ Eugene's stomach flipped and his chest caved with the weight of that.  _YES, Miss, Your Royal Highness, Miss! She actually said it! She wants me back! -but wait, if she still thinks I abandoned her then, oh Blondie, please love yourself. Stop chasing people who hurt you…_  He sighed lightly.

"Several hostages?" the Baron grinned. "Why, the only  _previously-naturalized_  Coronian here, is Flynn. And he's not being held hostage."

Stalyan reached out to tap Eugene's arm.

He finally looked up to Stalyan at least, unfortunately putting Rapunzel in his line of sight behind her, but he managed to keep his focus in the foreground. He gave her his right hand. He watched as they held hands between their horses, his thumb stroking hers.  _Showtime._ At last, he suddenly looked to Rapunzel diving deep right in her big green eyes, with his own bright ones completely open to her.  _Oh! And you put all the little flowers back in your hair, just like-! Oh. Ohhh…_ He sighed. "Sorry you wasted your time coming all this way, Your Royal Highness," he began announcing to the group. "But he's right. Eugene Fitzherbert was a fake name, and I'm just not  _meant to be_ with you, or any of you, in Corona."

"Euge-!"

"Your parents didn't really want me-"

"They  _did!_ "

"Oh,  _shut up_ ," he sneered.

Rapunzel shot back in her saddle as if she had just been knocked over.

_I know they did. Your dad wouldn't have let us start out on this journey if he wasn't truly at least_ okay _with me for you._ "And I gave up on getting  _you_  to say 'yes.' So, I went back to Stalyan and the Baron."

Her mouth fell open as she lost her breath and focus, her whole world turning upside down right in front of her face. "What about Pascal?!" she asked like a frantic mother.

Eugene made a brief face at her; a hard-pursed wide frown, strained neck, and bugged out eyes, that then pinched just so. But then he calmly asked, "Who?" A quick peripheral glance to Stalyan and the Baron showed they were concentrated in staring at the opposing side, not at him. He looked back to catch Rapunzel's attention, then pointedly darted just his eyes back and forth between her, and his change purse.

Rapunzel watched him, slightly confused and uncertain.

Cassandra growled in frustration. "Pascal, you dolt! You know-"

"Cass!" Rapunzel cried out. When their eyes met, she shook her head slowly but pointedly at her.

Eugene shook his head at both of them, acting annoyed.  _Cass-! Dargh, shut up! Gotta take that heat off-_ "Hey! Princess!" he spat out, "How many men you bring with you?" He smirked knowingly at her.

Rapunzel blanched as her attention snapped back to his smug face.

"It's just us," the Captain answered more quickly.

"Excuse you," Eugene sneared. "But I asked the Princess." _Make it good, come on! Her dad knows better than to trust Cop Face!_

Rapunzel scoffed, nervously. "Uh,  _yeah?_  It's just us. I mean," she scoffed more believably confident, "Do you  _see_  anybody else here?" She waved her arm out and around.

Eugene smirked, savoring his pride in her. "Alright, alright." Then he cleared his throat and resumed his stern pout. "Anyway, there's nothing here for you. So just turn your little horsie around, and run back to Daddy."

Max snorted indignantly.

" _Rider,_ " the Captain growled, his old rage back and exponentially compounded."I swear to God I'll have your tongue ripped out yet!"

Cassandra scowled. "What about Lance?" she called to him, with a slightly more level head. "And Hookfoot and Shorty?"

Eugene rolled his tongue around as he glanced to Stalyan, who shot him back a warning death glare. He returned to Cassandra. "Cass _o_ ndra? Ugh, thought I'd never have to see  _you_ again," he chuckled darkly. "They took off. I don't know where they are, but the last time I saw them, they weren't lookin' too good."

Cassandra was taken aback at his blatant disregard for even his supposed best friend.

"Eu _gene,_ " Rapunzel tried again, their eyes instantly locking again. She was not sure what she had seen before, especially compared to how he kept talking, muddled with the letter she had received. "I'm  _sorry._  But it's okay now. I-"

He blinked and shook his head. "Save it. I don't wanna hear it."

"But-"

"You traitorous scum!" the Captain bellowed. "We  _trained_  you!"

"We  _trusted_  you!" Cassandra followed up.

"Showed me all your secrets?" Eugene offered to continue listing off as he blankly stared at her. "Like the Book of Hearts?"

Cassandra blanched again.

Eugene grinned. "All those maps and tunnels?" He bounced his eyebrows obnoxiously.

Stalyan and the Baron were positively drooling over what a good display he was giving.

"Yeah,  _big_  mistakes," Eugene laughed.

" _Eu_ gene!" Rapunzel burst.

He looked to her and delicately held their gaze.

She took a deep breath. With her voice and lips quivering, she tried to call out, but it came out rather quiet, though still audible. "I  _love_  you." Then she bit her lips and shook her head. "And  _you_   _love_   _me_."

_Yesss!_  He consciously squeezed Stalyan's hand, imagining he was addressing her, instead of the blonde across from him.  _And Cap, please don't hold this against me!_ To help him get through it, he hung his left hand on his right thigh, with his ring and middle fingers curled in, and pointer pointing toward Rapunzel.  _I love you, Rapunzel. Just look, please!_  "I  _don't_ ," he spat out, "I just wanted your crown, and everything that came with it, alright? But clearly that was a wasted investment." He shrugged. "You'll fall for anything." He smirked, but only from remembering how she had fallen for a circus trick of somebody who supposedly had two heads.

Rapunzel recoiled from the emotional blow as she viscerally felt his words. " _Wha…?_ "

"I  _never_  did," Eugene continued shaking his head and calling. Finally the tiniest hitch caught his throat; he had to finish it up before he blew it. "I've been  _lying_ to you." Then he paused to conjure up all the love and pain and joy and pining this last word would carry; all the history and agonizing weight and grand hope for the future. He recited in his head how he would say it, to make sure he would say it right, the same way he always said it to her. "Blondie."

Rapunzel froze, lashes fluttering in recognition again. She looked back up to Eugene, who was still watching her with a strong and silent resilience, that strangely welcomed her. She noticed his fingers, then looked back into his eyes, searching for his true will.

_Help me, Blondie. You're my only hope. I know you won't disappoint me._  He kept his eyes locked on her face but tilted his head down and raised his brow both just a smidge, the tiniest signal of passing control off to her, demonstrating his absolute trust.  _Even if she doesn't take me back, I've gotta get us ALL outta here._

She blinked a little wider, and her mouth fell open. Suddenly, she crumpled into a loud, crying heap. If this was what Eugene's plan was, to make her upset, even artificially, then she really could no longer argue with holding back all of her emotions, all of her hurt feelings.

Eugene smirked at her.  _That's my girl. You never cry that melodramatically in front of other people- unless, you really are that crushed and broken?_ His expression returned to uncaring deadpan.  _Damn I hope not, Sweetie..._

Stalyan smirked over at him in turn, which he did then reciprocate.

"I think we're done here," the Baron declared with pleasure. "Leave Vardaros by nightfall, and there won't be any consequences." He turned his horse around to head back to his mansion.

Eugene charmingly watched Stalyan turn her horse around as well, and then situated his own to walk beside her, on her left.

Rapunzel, still holding onto the very edge, dangling over total despair, could hardly believe her eyes both as Eugene's right hand held Stalyan's, and as his left hand unlatched the flap of his change purse, out of Stalyan's line of sight, and two fingers slid against something inside. After he retracted his hand to hold it open, a tiny dark ball with a spiral behind it, lept from the pouch. She knew she could not squeal and leap for joy, but she bolted up straight, beaming, even as she watched the back of Eugene's head bob away from her and tears streaked her face.

"Uh, Raps-?" Cassandra watched the same scene, but was confused.

Rapunzel shot her a look to remain quiet. The ball was now brown, scurrying on the brown ground toward her.

* * *

If he thought being stuck there without her was the worst thing in the world before, he was coming to the conclusion that he might had been wrong. Being stuck there without her,  _while she was waiting right outside the city_ , was the worst thing in the world.

Eugene kept himself "busy" all day. He idly paced from one room to another, but as if with purpose. He sat, fidgeting with seating positions, with a novel open in front of his face, though he could not read a single word. Now that he knew which direction they were, though, he tried to remain in rooms with windows facing them.

He finally realized that it would not be deemed strange of him to lie out on the roof again, and so he did. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, and trying to calm himself by staring and daydreaming at fluffy clouds passing by.

With no new word, the day dragged on, leaving him drifting in existential limbo. And with no appetite and no food again, his light head easily floated away. He did not even risk going to see Lance, lest Hookfoot or Shorty blow the cover.

He managed to eat at dinner at least, daring to trust she was still waiting for him, and hopeful that the night might bring news.

After dinner, Eugene sat reclined and stretched out on a chaise lounge in the bedroom, holding his glass of wine and staring blankly into the fire. The same singular thought was all that kept running through his mind, along with memories.  _Blondie. Dear God, please don't believe any of that. Trust ME._

He remembered looking deep into her eyes, pressing his lips together and wincing, silently apologizing for all they would never be, but steeling his resolve- the moment he had decided to die.

" _You were my new dream." "And you were mine."_

" _YOU are my new dream. So, as long as you're with me, that answer's always going to be yes!" "Wow… I-_ love  _you, Eugene, but- I can't. Just- not now..."_

" _I'm sorry." "No, no that's alright. Don't apologize." "Be patient with me." "Absolutely."_

_Don't believe what you heard; I know you'll get it. Trust ME._

" _I'm not going_ anywhere. _I love you, Rapunzel." "I love you, too! More than you will ever know."_

" _I am_ so _sorry, I hurt you Rapunzel. That's the last thing I'd ever wanna do." "I know, Eugene."_

_Don't believe what you heard; I know you'll get it. Trust ME._

" _Sweetheart, what are you saying?" "I- I'm not sure if I_ want _to be queen." "Just know that when that time comes, no matter what you decide, I will be right here with you."_

" _It's like you're afraid to be_ you. _And I miss YOU!"_

_Don't believe what you heard; I know you'll get it. Trust ME._

" _I'll do whatever it takes to keep Rapunzel safe." "And so will I."_

" _Blondie?" "Hey." "We have_ got _to start finding better ways to celebrate your birthday!"_

_You're smart. You're_ wise. _You- you've been hurt so badly, for so long… PLEASE. Believe in ME. You KNOW you're my everything. You KNOW my life is yours. Even as Flynn Rider, I was never THAT much of a jerk to you. Don't believe anything you heard today; believe all the days before any of this ever happened, all our days_ together _, not apart._

" _Did you… just ask me to marry you?" "...wha- NO! Hah, nooo…"_

He bit his lip.  _Yes, Blondie. Yes, you know what my lies are. You can tell. You know I want to marry YOU. ...and she knew I wanted to ask her again..._

" _Idiot…_ " he whispered to himself right before taking another swig.  _After_ everything?  _After all we've been through, and I wasn't brave enough to fess up and just_ say _it. Just admit that I_ had  _said it. I wasn't even really 'rejected' the first time- that wasn't the end of the world. It wasn't the end of 'us.' So what was I so afraid of? ...another bruise on my irrelevant ego, but- I had promised I'd be patient…_ His brow knit up in guilt. _Guess 6 more months wasn't enough. But I'd wait even longer still! Blondie, I didn't leave you. I can still be patient. It was just a question! I knew she still loved me and- if this hadn't'd happened, I would've still been in despair about that._ He sighed.  _But damn if I could still just be there. Now, will she really want me back? Can a_ divorced _orphan thief even marry a princess?_

Stalyan slid up to him and sat leaning up against him, sipping on her own wine glass. He smiled and welcomed her, wrapping his arm around her. She asked soothingly, "How are you doing after all that?"

He nodded his head to the side and shrugged. "I dunno, honestly. Feels like I just closed a whole chapter of my life."  _God I hope not._

She rubbed his shoulders and down over his biceps. "One year isn't a long time."

He stared safely into the fireplace. "I didn't think she'd come."  _Part of me didn't anyway..._

"Took her sweet time."

"Pfft, yeah, right?" He rolled his eyes and took another drink of wine.  _Couldn't have gotten here fast enough, but I understand..._

"Well, she's too late." Her hand slid around his thigh. "If she really wanted you, she would've married you right away."

Eugene felt his breathing seize and neck stiffen as she narrated his darkest thoughts, and he had to hold his composure. He watched her other hand slide up his chest to clutch his collar, then how she pulled them together for a kiss. What he saw though, was a flashback of sitting on the stone tiled floor, still covered in blood, thinking those same thoughts.  _'If we really want each other, let's get married right away!'_  When he pulled away from the kiss, though, the world was off kilter and everything was completely different again, and wrong.  _Why didn't she at least_ want  _to marry me, ever? She said 'just not now' the first time, but an engagement can be as long as you want. I just wanted to know I was hers- forever!_

She hummed tantalizingly as her hand slid up to his crotch, grabbing hold of him. He jumped a little. "'Cause now you're all mine."

He identified the part of him she was truly speaking to: his insecurities. The weakest part of him that had kept him by her side all those years ago. The fear that no one else would ever want to keep him around. He honestly searched her eyes; she was looking for that submission again. Brow furrowed and lips pursed, and he made the decision. He relented to that part, praying that when the time came tomorrow, he could put it away again.  _Rapunzel, in all her glory, is waiting right outside the city with an_ army  _for me. Tomorrow, whether we're kissing or not, I'll be standing with her. But tonight, I have to…_ He reached out, took her face, and lead her into a kiss. "Show me."

She perked up. She took his glass from him, stood, and set them both aside. He watched her, waiting for a direction. Backed by the roaring fire, she whipped her skirt off, revealing her black lace panties, garters, and black lace-top stockings. His eyes needed no help popping at the sudden show. She pulled his knees aside so he was sitting up straight on the chaise with his feet on the ground, then she crawled up to straddle his lap on her knees.

His hands pulled the back of her knees into place to match her mound up with where he hoped his bulge would appear without issue. He closed his eyes as she went in to kiss him, her hands on his jaw. He ran his up the back of her thighs, hardly surprised it was a thong she wore as he rounded her bare cheeks. He gripped her hips, rotely going through the motions without really feeling any of whatever he was touching.

He finally relented and gave her his tongue she had been trying to coax out. While she busied herself with that, and unbuttoning his shirt, he relaxed into his mind to analyze for a moment.  _Rapunzel is right outside._  Even with Pascal gone, he could almost feel eyes watching him.  _And Cass and the Captain. They're all my family now- screw what this ring on my finger says! I want that back, and she wants me back! And I will do whatever it takes to get back to her._ He began kissing back, and cracked his eyes open, spying his nemesis.

He kneaded around her ass and her hips, following the curves of her body around her shoulders and breasts. He leaned away out of the kiss to speak. "Stal," he rasped as she still hung onto his lip. " _Baby_ ," he repeated more firmly and so she paused to listen. She leaned back to look him in the eye, where he made a point to return the scan as he took a deep breath. He knew exactly what it would mean with her, but he still resolved to say it. "Take me."

She dove back in to recapture his lips. She stood up in front of him again, but still reached down to cup between his legs. He moaned out, startled, but made sure to keep his knees apart where they were. Playing the submissive part would at least be mentally easier; she would do all the work and decide exactly what happened. The only thing he had to endure now was-

" _Rrgh!_ "  _Too tight!_

She stopped squeezing, in favor of slapping his face for crying out about it. Combined with the touching below, this one gave him a rush, which he gritted his teeth about. Anything to get his blood flowing, though. "Get up," she ordered, and he scrambled to his feet. As he did so, he slipped out of the red waistcoat she had finished unbuttoning. She took up her wine glass again and stepped back. She smirked. "The rest?"

He held his head up, and quickly ran down all the buttons of his dress shirt and gruffly shrugged it off. He grabbed her sides again and rushed in for a kiss, hoping it was something she would expect of him.

She kissed back, but grabbed his belt buckle, and it took all his self restraint not to suplex or drop kick her right there. "Gimme this."

"My belt?"

"Don't question me."

He took a deep breath, but he obeyed and removed the it. He slid the change purse off to drop onto the chaise, then handed the belt over to her. She snatched his wrist instead, and pulled him around so he turned his back to her. She snatched his other wrist and began weaving the belt between and around to secure them.

Eugene just raised his face but closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing with deep breaths.  _Okay, Eugene, no need to panic! If you've done a good conjob, then this shouldn't be any different than when we used to do it._ But he tensed.  _I remember liking it, for the most part, but, that was back when I could have some semblance of trust in her - show her you trust her!_

Once she had finished, she pushed him back around, and dragged him to the bed. His pants dropped with her as she crouched down. "There's what I  _want,_ " she cooed, taking hold of him and flopping it about her face.

_I am not just-!_ Even Lance had helped water this weed in his mind though.

_'"Consort?" So basically, if you marry the Princess, your only job is to make babies?_ ' _  
'Not just- No! There's emotional support, and counsel, and_ raising  _the kids! Ya know, like a_ husband _?!'_

He closed his eyes and breathed carefully, trying to refocus his mind.  _My kids are going to rule Corona someday. That's the destiny I felt pulling me in. I_ have to  _believe that!_ His self-esteem issues were interrupted by some teasing, testing licks, bringing sharp inhales. But it was quickly offset with slaps to the sides of his ass, making him jump again.

Stalyan suddenly stood back up, and pushed him backwards to topple onto the bed. The pants still around his ankles exaggerated the trip, and with his hands tied behind his back, he landed on them and could not move much at all. She pulled the pants off the rest of the way, then grabbed an ankle, and pulled it to a bedpost at the foot of the bed.

He picked his head up, alarmed.  _This is new!_  But he did not say anything, just helped get himself into position. She finished securing his one ankle, then started on the other. "So, what do ya have in mind with all this?" he tried to lightheartedly ask. "Gotta say I'm, uh..." The only other woman who had ever tied him up, had not used rope,  _or_  sashes,  _or_  leather... He cleared his throat. "I'm  _a little..._  rusty?"

"Aw, don't worry. I'll break you back in." Stalyan crawled over him. Her hands sunk into his hair and pulled it back, making him hiss and wince. She kissed him deeply as she brought a blindfold down over his eyes, and his breath shuddered…

* * *

Still feeling some stings and soreness, Eugene sat back in the chaise yet again, alone, in the dark, dressed in a not-disagreeable dark green robe, keeping an eye on the window, and listening for any scurrying. After she had finished with him, he was indeed left bound as she fell right to sleep. He had waited, then managed to unlatch his belt to free his hands, and then of course his feet.  _Ya know, when we're evenly matched for sleight of hand, I don't know why we bother._ Now he waited again, again hoping to be able to affect his fate somehow. Finally, right after midnight, he heard the familiar squeak again. He sat up with his feet on the ground, smiling in welcome relief once more, as he waited for his friend to get to him.

Pascal spotted him and hurried over. This time when he stopped short, he was concerned about the red marks around Eugene's ankles.

" _What?"_ he whispered, but followed his eyes. _"Oh."_  He tried to rub them out some more.  _"Don't worry about it."_ He held his hand out for Pascal to climb onto, and he did. Eugene set him down beside him.  _"So what's the game plan, Big Guy?"_  Pascal grinned and smacked his hand with a new note. Eugene recoiled in disgust at his tongue action, but eagerly peeled the paper off and read it.

>   
>  _When the Sun rises in the East, the Moon rises in the West._

He adorable crooked smile popped up across his face so naturally, studying her handwriting as if it were the freckles on her face. He even ran his fingers over the beautiful calligraphy. The moonlight from the window was bright enough to read by, but he brought it over to the desk and lit a candle to reply. Pascal hitched a ride on his shoulder. Eugene shot him a quick smile and booped his forehead. With the fire out and no way to dispose of the received letter, he began writing right underneath.

>   
>  _And the Moon will be overjoyed for the return of Sunshine!_

He flipped it over to further gush.

>   
>  _The Moon is so full tonight; at last, all of it can finally see the Sun's Light again. But even though the Sun was not been able to see all of the Moon before tonight, that does not mean it was not there._

With a lazy smile on his face, he doodled the sun symbol of Corona, and a round, speckled moon with a smiley face –  _Will our kids have her freckles?_  - surrounded by some stars. It was not at all as cryptic as their previous exchanges -after all, everyone knew Rapunzel and Corona's association with the sun, so the logical opposite was obvious- but it was much more romantic. The heart he drew between with R+E inside was even more blatant.  _I could write nonstop all sorts of romantic metaphors to her, and I've wanted to. And flowery phrases, and lustful lingual literary exercises. But this'll have to do for now, just enough to get me back to her._ He sighed, folded the letter back up, and handed it over to Pascal, who stashed it inside his cheek.  _"You wanna go back by Owl this time? We need to speed things up."_ Pascal nodded confidently, and Eugene scooped him up to bring him to the window.

He swung the window open, and Pascal crawled out to the ledge. He blinked white, and swiftly, a much more docile Owl landed beside him. Eugene smirked. "Yeah, genius," he tapped Owl's head with one finger, one tap for each singsong word, " _I'm_ not the bad guy."

Pascal carefully wrapped his tail around one of Owl's legs, and gripped the other in his paws. Eugene casually stroked Pascal's head, to which he cooed sweetly. Then he pet Owl's head, which he shivered through, reruffling his feathers a little. Without anymore ado, Owl spread his wings, hopped a bit to get comfortable with the extra weight, and took off into the night.

Eugene leaned out the window for a while, enjoying the bright moonlight and the fresh night air. He lost track of time, but he had nothing to do but kill time now. With only a few more hours til sunrise, he did not dare go back to sleep. He hummed the tune of the old incantation, bringing a smile to his face, and calming his mind by focusing on trying to remember every single word as well.

" _...make the clock reverse... Bring back what once was mine. What once, was,_ mine… _"_

Too soon, though, he saw Owl heading back, straight for him. For all his haste, Owl still seemed rather indifferent. Alone this time, he hopped back inside and fluffed his feathers out, before offering his leg, which held a similar canister as the ravens. Eugene quickly snatched it and popped the tiny letter out, surprised to see Cassandra's handwriting.

>   
>  _FITZHERBERT- I don't know what is going on, or whose side you're on, but Rapunzel is sick._

His stomach dropped and wanted to throw up at the same time. All he could do, though, was hold his hand out for Owl to not leave yet, and continue reading.

> _We 1st noticed shortly after Pascal & Owl left before. But that was hours ago & I still don't know what's wrong, & she is getting worse. We are out of ideas. & even I just _ _cannot_ _believe that you would_ _not_ _care about this._

He had not noticed his hand shaking, but he clenched the paper tight to calm himself nonetheless. He closed the window, whispered,  _"You. Stay,"_  to Owl, stuck inside now, and marched right over to the desk, grabbed the pen and ink, and marched right back to the window sill to write by the moonlight. He simply flipped the letter over and began writing, larger than usual, shaky and messy.

>   
>  _CASS- Don't worry. I need to find something 1st. Meet me in the back garden. Everything's going to be OK._

Again, he quickly drew a heart, and inside, scratched in R+E. He rolled it back up, resecured it to Owl's leg, and opened the window again.  _"Please hurry,"_ he whispered to his tiny stoic face. He just stared back, then flew off.

Eugene bit his lip and his breathing trembled trying to hold it in.  _Not you, Blondie…_ He quickly changed into all soft black clothes, then set out to search for another vial of antivenom.

* * *

A mere few but agonizing minutes later, he was making his way carefully through the shadows between the mansion's patio and the gardens. Past the high bushes and half walls, he walked along a wide path between the outside of the back garden wall and a much taller fortified wall. He soon heard a familiar  _"Crueue-ooh,"_  up above him.

Suddenly, at the end corner of the garden wall, a slim figure appeared out of the side of a large tree. A crossbow rose, pointed in his direction.

Eugene froze, hands in the air. After a few breaths waiting each other out, he finally called over in an urgent whisper.  _"Cass?"_

"What do you want?" she replied.

Eugene suddenly had to catch his breath. "Cass," he gasped, "I have an antidote." He slowly moved his hand to an inside breast pocket, to produce a tiny vial to show her. "Can I bring it over to you?"

The silhouette of her stance changed, and the crossbow lowered slightly. "You come here."

Keeping his hands raised, he cautiously walked over to her. As he could see more and more of her in the full moonlight, he smiled wider and wider.

She glowered at him all the harder. She stopped him short about six feet from her, and motioned with the crossbow. "Put it on the ground."

He did, even as he had to take his eyes off the crossbow pointed at his head. When he stood and backed up, they continued studying each others' faces intently.

"That's an  _antidote?_ "

He bit his lips and nodded.

"So she was  _poisoned?_ "

"The Baron has this spider," he sighed, but could not continue talking about it in regards to his innocent beloved. He cracked. "It is  _really_ great to see you, Cass."

She growled in frustration. "First off, that would make this an anti _venom._ Second, what is  _wrong_ with you?!" she complained, but kept her voice low. "One minute you're showing off your new  _wife_  as Flynn Rider again, the next you're back to-  _this!_ "

Eugene huffed a single pathetic laugh. "A lot of things. A lot of things are wrong, and wrong with me." He shook his head. "Just get that to her, please. It can take a while to fully recover, but just make sure it all gets down her throat and it'll work." He nodded, then motioned with his chin for her to leave. "Go, I know you'll take care of her."

Cassandra sighed at him, and lowered the weapon again. "Come with me," she urged in a friendly tone.

Eugene cringed. "Cass-"

"Don't you want to see her?"

" _Of course_  I do. I do wanna see her,  _God,_  more than anything,but- I can't."

"Why not? Do you have a tail?"

"No, I don't think so, but-"

"Then  _what_  is the problem?!"

"They have Lance." They were silent for a moment, then Eugene scoffed pitifully. "You probably don't even believe me."

"I don't know  _what_ to believe!" she threw her hand out in confusion, then resumed her target.

"Didn't you read the letter I sent back with Pascal?"

"That poetry bullshit?"

Eugene sighed heavily.  _Casssss… Reeeally tryin' me on the similarities here…_ "Just, let Rapunzel read it. She'll get it. And ya know, is she even really sick? Or did your dad finally discover this new trick to catching me?"

"She  _really_  is,  _really_  sick.  _I_ don't  _lie_."

He glared her down hard.

"And at that rate, is this even an antivenom? Or is  _this_  the poison?"

" _CASS._ " Eugene's voice roared out from behind gritted teeth, too loud, too dark, but also very hurt.

"What's your endgame here?" she further challenged.

"Same as it's ever been. And we both know I'm no match for you, so why do you still have that on me?" He pointed to the crossbow.

"Makes me feel better."

Eugene sighed. "That spider. Its bite makes skin turn green and spotted, causes fever, delusions, and swollen tongue and mouth, before all of that asphyxiates you..." His mind was so kind as to conjure up what she looked like in that condition, and what could happen to her. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms, hunched over. "They poisoned Lance like that and forced me into this." He looked back up to her face, and his voice disappeared. "Please, Cass _o_ ndra," he choked out, "There's not time for me to explain everything. But whatever happens, take care of her."

She did not seem like she was about to give in to believing anything. "And what about you?"

He took a deep breath. "I wrote it in the other letter."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know, and it was  _her_ idea, so I know what you're talking about. But why should I _trust_   _you?_ "

He sighed. "I- I dunno, Cass! I haven't told them  _anything-_  Pascal can vouch for that. Maybe I could signal Owl when we start on this end?"

She shrugged, indifferent. "Pascal's only been with you for a few hours."

"Cass, I-" His jaw flapped around uselessly, disheartened more than offended. " _Please,_ I just- I'm  _exhausted_. My nerves are shot, I haven't been able to  _think_ ,  _at all,_  since I read your letter. I don't know what else to say to you right now to get you to believe me. I'm desperate and you're my only hope. You can resent me all you like, but Rapunzel believed  _in me_ enough for  _all_ of  _you_  to come all this way, to save  _all_ of us. The guys  _are here._  So just say it's a go, then get her that antidote, asap."

She hardly considered him, instead falling back on tactical training. "You initiate. Then we'll see."

Eugene nodded. "Good enough."

"And you leave first."

"I'm gone." He put his hands back up and started walking backwards a bit. "Just, give her my love, please."

Cassandra only stared him down, adjusting her grip on the handle and barrel.

Eugene's face screwed all up, but he turned around, and hurried back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A.N.:** Oh, so btw, I don't know what I'm doing about tumblr… I'll decide after Christmas. But once I finish this story off, I unfortunately owe Yu-Gi-Oh at least a chapter before I then get back to Broken Dreams. Also, nerd college has gotten in the way, as well as trying to balance out medication interactions, oy...
> 
> Merry Christmas!


	6. Choose Your Cellmate Wisely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit May 13, 3:10pm EST - Upon rereading the second half of this chapter in one straight go again, I've noticed a few inconsistencies (just like arm movements) and some hiccups in the flow and focus of conversation. I want to go back through and iron these things out, but it will have to wait a few more days. Till then, thank you for your patience, perseverance, and understanding.

Eugene stood facing the east window, dressed in all black, waiting for the sun. He watched Stalyan’s peaceful face as she slept. But his remained deadpan and serious, resolved to let this day decide the course of his fate, and the lives of everyone involved.

A dagger hung from his belt on one side; a sword on the other. A cape over his shoulders concealed both. But he did not mask his face.

Slowly, the horizon lightened up, and the landscape showed some colors, just barely beginning to be saturated.

Eugene glanced out the window at the spreading light. He held his dagger, ready to draw, as he glared with all of his malice at the woman who might have already well destroyed his life. He let it play out in his mind, his anger running his imagination off the rails, only to be satisfied with blood. He tensed, but he waited.

Outside, a rooster crowed.

He looked back out the window, at everything now drenched in a golden light. _Time to move._ He looked down again at her, who supposedly held the title of his wife. Hatred swelled in him, yet actually told him to stop. _She deserves to suffer. This- would be too nice, too quick._ _No, I want her to_ know exactly _what happens here today._ He resecured the dagger, then turned on his heel and silently slipped away.

* * *

“Hey, mornin’.” A cheerful Eugene greeted the guard at the door of the dungeon. “I just ran into Bill, and he said there’s donuts in the little kitchen.” The little kitchen was clear at the other end of the property.

The guard half frowned, apologetic. “I uh, I can’t leave my post. You know that.”

Eugene smirked. “Anthony doesn’t know about the donuts, and he won’t know if you take a break.” He tossed his head over his shoulder. “C’mon man. I see you workin’ too much. Makes me feel bad.”

He smiled but cocked his brow, curious.

Eugene nodded along, looking like he did not really want to reveal this. “Actually, I used to work as a guard myself, for a little stint. In Corona, we had this rule where if you walked your post twice in a row, you could take the rest of the time as a break.”

“You did?” He looked wistfully disheartened.

“Yeah!” Eugene laughed. “I know you just have the one spot, but so you should definitely deserve a break, a change of scenery, some fresh air… Heh, ya know?”

He finally looked full of temptation.

Eugene frowned and sighed. “Alright, look, I didn’t wanna get suckered into this, but I could keep an eye on things for you while you’re gone.”

He perked up. “Really?”

“ _Yeaaah,_ ” he groaned, sounding annoyedly put-out. “And hey I’m the Baron’s heir now. This whole operation’s gonna be mine _someday._ I just wanna make sure you guys are taken care of too, ya know?”

The guard sighed and at last looked grateful. “Thanks, Mr. Rider!”

Eugene clapped him on a shoulder and nodded. “Anytime.” He stood back, leaned against the wall with one foot on it and his arms crossed, and watched as the young man left. As soon as he was gone, he hopped to it. He ran down the stairs and bounded up to the large cell holding his friends, who were all asleep.

Eugene stuck the end of his scabbard through the bars to poke Lance’s arm. “Heyyy- _yyy_ -yyy…” he softly sang out to him. “ _Lance!_ ” he hissed.

Lance stirred and looked towards him, and immediately turned confused. “Eugene?”

“Rise n’ shine, buddy!” Eugene set to work on picking the lock.

Lance looked him up and down, regarding his outfit. “What’s with that getup?” But he smirked as he noted the weapons attached to him, and his chipper attitude. “And just what's gotten into you?”

Eugene swung the door open, smiling wide as he nodded to him. “She’s _here.”_

Lance’s face lit up and he began getting to his feet and brushing himself off, while Eugene stepped inside to wake up Shorty and Hookfoot.

“Hope y’all ain’t too stiff,” Eugene commented. He waved a hand in front of Shorty, who had sat up with eyes open, but a vacant stare. “Should we leave Shorty here? Get him later?”

Lance finished stretching his everything out, and shrugged. “He is a wildcard…”

Eugene shrugged back. “And a wildcard could always be useful.”

Hookfoot frowned. “It could also backfire.”

Eugene stood back up and headed back out to the aisle to play lookout. “Just keep him in back.” He looked back to the guys. “Ready?” Everyone gave him a thumbs up. “Then let’s get you guys to the armory.” He drew his dagger.

Lance frowned. “Eugene, you’re not gonna use that.” The uncertain panic suddenly showed in Eugene’s face as his friend demonstrated how he knew him better than himself. “You _know_ you’re not gonna.”

“I may have to.” His grip tightened as he tried to convince himself.

“No, you’re gonna freeze. Or, even if you do, then we both know you _really_ won’t be able to live with that.”

Eugene’s hand hung limp. He resheathed it.

But Lance touched his shoulder. “Forget the armory. Let’s head to the _kitchen_.” They smiled to each other, then embraced.

“Thanks for keepin’ me goin’ through this.”

“Thanks for savin’ _me_ in the first place.”

Hookfoot stepped through them, pushing them apart. “Alright, _ladies,_ this mushfest can continue later!”

Lance and Eugene shared a look, then Eugene headed for the door to lead the way.

* * *

In the main kitchen, only one woman had already begun work on firing up the hearth. When she stepped outside with a bucket of chicken feed, the door mysteriously closed behind her.

One palm still outstretched on the door, Eugene stepped out from the corner, and lowered the bar across it. He hurried back across the kitchen to open the door to inside and let everyone else know the coast was clear. Each armed with a cast-iron frying pan, except for Shorty who took a ladle, they filed back out again.

* * *

Eugene explained the plan on the way to the armory anyway. Once there, Lance and Hookfoot each picked up a sword and a crossbow for themselves. Hookfoot found a leather helmet, and Lance found an ornate Belgian cavalry helmet; both absconded. Eugene gathered all the rope he could find, but separated out one coil to hang off the back of his belt behind him, completely concealed by the cape.

The small but significant stash of gunpowder was closely gathered together, then left behind with a long trail and a spark heading back to meet it. The guys took cover back inside the living quarters. Lance discarded the small now-empty barrel he had carried, then watched Eugene’s pensive alertness focusing on the series of hallways they stood waiting in. Both them and Hookfoot covered their ears preemptively. . .

The _**BOOM**_ thundered out in all directions, rattling the walls and windows of the mansion. Chunks of stone wall and splintered planks of wood bounced off the mansion’s exterior, and through the large windows’ panes, clouds of dirt and smoke could be seen billowing up.

The men all shuddered away from the noise and cringed from the sound, but they quickly recovered, looking to Eugene for direction again, though he looked to Lance for reassurance.

“Listen for any responding guards or whoever,” Eugene tried to say quietly, through only slight hearing loss. “Now, to the Great Hall.”

Lance made a serious face and nodded.

Eugene grabbed his sleeve. “ _You._ Stay behind me,” he pleaded.

Lance smirked.

* * *

In the hallway right outside the closed doors of the Great Hall, Anthony stood before a crowd of guards, pointing to divvy them up. “You- check the east wing, you- check the west wing, and the rest of you, secure the perimeter.” He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Eugene casually strolling up to him. “Ah, Mr. Rider. You’re up _suspiciously_ early. Or are you _still_ awake?”  
  
“Mornin’ to you, too, Weasel.” Practically giddy with confidence, Eugene’s face was teaming with smarm.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what that explosion was all about, would you?” A genuine question, though Anthony retained his suspicion as he looked down his long nose, eyeing him up.

Eugene looked away at something, but before Anthony could focus on where his gaze had been, he quickly brought his eyes back to lock the other’s in. Anthony awaited his answer, but Eugene opened a new verbal path. “Did you know that the Princess of Corona used to chart stars and developed her own encryption code systems?”

Realization was quick to dawn on the Brit, which then twisted his expression from arrogant precision to bittersweet vengefulness. “What would I know or _care,_ about a _dead_ Princess’s hobbies?” he snarked.

Eugene cockily smirked right back at him. “Oh, I know what you did to her. Or rather, _tried_ to do to her.”

Anthony turned distastefully menacing again. “Listen here, Rider,” he sneered in a threatening voice, “I haven’t trusted this chummy new attitude of yours for one minute, but if you _think_ , you’re walkin’ out of here _alive_ , you’ve got another thing comin’.”

“Well, I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Oh, such a brave hero? Think you’re going to single-handedly, what, take us all down?”

Eugene shifted his shoulders around and restraightened his posture out, with his hands crossed behind his back, under his cape. “You’re under arrest, Weasel.”

“ _Arrest?_ ” he teased out, then laughed. “Whatever for?”

“For _our_ kidnapping, for aiding and abetting torture, for the _attempted_ murder of the Crown Princess of Corona, and I don’t even know how many human rights violations throughout Vardaros.”

Anthony scowled. “No, really. What on Earth do you think you are doing, Rider? In what way does this not end with you getting yourself and your friends all killed?”

“I’m sorry,” Eugene tilted his head at him, “Are you asking me to make the _classic_ villain mistake of explaining my dastardly plot?”

Anthony glared at him. “Even if the Princess is still alive, then she’ll be the _only_ one left; maybe her and her little soldier girlfriend.”

“And is _that_ supposed to make me what, jealous?” Eugene laughed, “Of Cass _a_ ndra?” Anthony watched him heartily laugh and wipe a tear from his eye. “Oh, that’s rich. You _clearly_ don’t know who you’re dealing with, with those two.” He sighed out and came down, clearing his throat as he recomposed himself. “Comon now.”

“Alright then,” Anthony relinquished facetiously as he shrugged, “You wanna play a hero?” He drew his sword. “I’ll show you what happens to heroes.”

Eugene fell deadpan serious, and drew his as well. “I know what happens.” He turned contrapposto, revealing the frying pan in his other hand, but kept it tucked in closer as a shield and deflector.

Anthony considered him shortly, then lunged at him.

Eugene quickly but awkwardly deflected with his sword. He instantly lost the smug though; fear and inexperience gripped his face.

Anthony hmphed at him, but tried again. He let Eugene parry his next overhanded blow, before swiftly sweeping it into a better aimed sideways one.

Eugene barely followed the continuation of the move, but he darted the frying pan out just in time to block.

Anthony whipped his sword back to his side, resuming his stance. He began sidestepping around Eugene, forcing him to turn around to keep them face to face. Again and again, Anthony hacked at him, attempting to get past his defense on a second or third movement. And each time, Eugene managed to deflect or block him. Anthony circled around some more, growing more annoyed with each passing second. “What, are you just here to keep me busy?” he taunted.

“ _I wish,”_ Eugene grumbled under his breath, desperately recollecting himself.

“What was that?”

“I said, _‘You bitch.’_ ”

He ignored him. “Hmph. You’re no _swordsman_.”

“I know that.” Eugene began with a lunge this time, which was parried. He waved the pan at Anthony’s head, but even missed his long nose. He came back with the sword right after, to meet another block, redirected around and down to the ground. He brought the frying pan back up in turn, catching the other sword and redirecting it back the way it had come. At that, Eugene backed off just as Anthony retreated a step.

But Eugene wanted to keep his pace up. He started at him again, but too similarly. Just as he thought he knew what to expect, Anthony had adapted and ended this round surprising Eugene with a punch to his face with the pommel of his sword. The pan clunked to the tile floor, and Eugene followed it, going down hard with an _**OOF**_ and another clattering of his sword falling broadside beneath him.

Eugene laid out for a moment, reorienting himself after the painful hit. A trickle of blood spilled out from where the inside of his lip had cut open on a tooth. He clammored to his knees to rest, bent over, breathing hard. Coughs competed with haggard gasps for air.

“Goodnight, Rider.” Anthony aimed for his neck, definitively swinging his sword down as hard as he could, executioner style.

A loud clang was heard instead.

Anthony blinked in confusion. Beneath his now-empty hand, he saw that his sword had bounced off the cast-iron frying pan, and out of his grip. It had landed on the other side of his target.

Eugene panted hard, pan still raised in his hand. He glared up at Anthony. “Will you ever _not_ underestimate me?”

Anthony put his hands up and backed away, his shock turning to fear as Eugene rose to his feet again, with both pan and sword in hand again. The sword remained pointed at the ground, but the pan stretched out to his throat.

Eugene stepped toward him, further separating him from his dislodged weapon. “Great Hall,” Eugene commanded. “Now.”

Anthony slowly turned, watching over his shoulder, and walked over to the large double doors. They opened for him, and he was surprised again to see Lance and Hookfoot awaiting him with sly grins, and crossbows.

The Great Hall was otherwise a wide open, spacious auditorium, where the Baron would receive guests indoors. With an large and ornate chair elevated on a platform against one wall, it served as his version of a throne room. Both the largest doors on the opposite wall leading out to the front, and all other side doors, were barred off with double halberd poles through their handles.

Anthony slowly stumbled in, hands raised, and cautious, but sourly refusing to give in to his defeat. Shorty waddled over, oblivious, and handed him the end of a rope. Dumbfounded and confused, he took it, then was thrown for a loop as Lance slapped his shoulder to spin him around. The next he knew, his eyes and the room were spinning, and he was bound tight. He fell to the floor on his ass, and Lance secured the knot keeping him that way.

Eugene cockily saluted them through the doorway, before turning to go find his next target. The doors closed again, concealing the first.

* * *

A few halls away, the Baron was making a beeline for where he had been told Anthony was last seen.

“Looking for me?”  
  
The Baron whipped around toward Eugene’s voice.

Eugene was already swinging; a loud panging crack, the edge side hit right on his temple. Grimace wiped off his face and consciousness from his mind, the Baron timbered over. His face smacked on the tile floor, blonde hair splayed around his head, and a small laceration had already split open where a larger bump was sure to follow.

Eugene shook his shoulders out. “ _Man_ , that felt good!” He took a deep breath, then carefully stepped around him, and got his rope out.

* * *

The Baron groaned back to consciousness, blinking into the brightness from his own Great Hall skylights. Next he realized he was tied up, and wriggled in his bindings. Anthony was still bound, and gagged, left situated behind the Baron so he could not tell how much he was losing already. He felt at his fingers; his ring was gone.

“Gulliver’s awake,” Lance said with humor in his voice.

“Lance?!” the Baron yelled in surprise at the man right in front of him. “How in the hell did you get out?!”

Lance just smiled at him charmingly through his fancy helmet, and tapped his finger on the side of the crossbow trigger, where the safety was off and the aim was on him. “Ah, get by with a lil help,” he quipped with a nod over to his friend.

“Aw, what’sa matter, _Dad?_ ” Eugene pulled up a plush-seated but armless chair, then sat on it backwards, facing the Baron. “I can’t have friends over?”

The Baron’s face boiled with red. “RiiiIIIiii _der?!_ ”

“Awgh,” he tsked. “Then you’re reeeally gonna hate me.” He chuckled, the relief from two-thirds of his targets being acquired allowing him a moment of celebration.

The Baron quickly calmed himself as he tried to assess the situation. “You really _are_ an idiot, Rider. You think any of you are going to just walk away? _Nobody_ turns their back on me. All these years, you had to _know_ this was comin’.”

Eugene was calm, and humored him this time. “Actually, I confess. We had no idea how to get out of here on our own. At least, true, not without leaving someone behind or risking all of our necks.”

“ _Their_ necks,” the Baron clarified with a smirk.

Eugene narrowed his eyes to him, understanding he was right, but unsure how defined or serious that statement was.

“Stalyan made me promise not to kill _you,_ Eugene. But even if you get away now, you won’t see _any_ of your friends again til the next life.” His grin deepened. “And you just can’t live with even a little blood on your hands, can you?”

Eugene’s gaze intensified, every lie about a finished _job_ flashing through his mind, and then some...

“ _I can only offer, my_ deepest _apologies, Your Majesty.” He shook his head. “You don’t have to forgive me; I understand what you mean when you say it was ‘traumatic.’ But one thing,” he looked right to her eyes, “That you_ have to _just,_ trust _me on._ Please know, _that you were never in any danger of being harmed, in any way.” He looked away again and nodded to the side. “I know, we were threatening, but Lance and I_ never truly _meant you any harm. I promise.”_

_Queen Arianna nodded, taking his assurance into consideration. “I do appreciate hearing that, and I do believe you. Thank you.”_

“ _May... I…” he hesitated, “Still go see Rapunzel?”_

_The new-again mother smiled. “Of course, Eugene.”_

“ _Thank you so much, Your Majesty.” He bowed sincerely, then hurried off, first to the market square._

Eugene pursed his lips together in a hard line.

“That’s why I needed you gone,” the Baron continued explaining.  
  


“You were _crazy,_ ” Eugene interjected, finally voicing his true thoughts on any of the Baron’s crimes, like the chaotic regicide he had on his mind at the moment.  
  
“YOU were a _liability!_ I couldn’t keep my _business_ running if people found out one of my men was too soft. You should consider yourself _lucky_ that Stalyan ‘loved’ you so much, that she _begged_ for you, and convinced me to keep you around after that.”

Eugene blinked and shook his head clear. He stood up and began to walk away.

The Baron still continued. “Or why don’t you go on and kill me?”

A flame in his heart roared up in agreement. Eugene turned around, an absolute snarl of disgust across his dashing features. “For what you did to Lance alone, I _should._ ” He stepped close to get in his face as he felt that passion engulf him. “For what you did to _my girlfriend,_ believe me, for the first time in my life, I _want to._ ”

The Baron looked pleased with himself for setting him off with such a temper.

But suddenly, Eugene dropped the anger. He stood up straight again and strode to one of the barred-off side doors.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the Baron called again.

“Gotta go wake up Sleeping Beauty.” Eugene winked at the Baron, then took off.

* * *

Guards passed him on their way to and fro, scrambling to find how the armory had exploded, to find Anthony, to find the Baron. Some tried to stop Eugene, but he just acted like he could not be bothered, then angrily gave them even more hurried orders, that just so happened to take them away from the Great Hall. He did not even dare try to get any more intel from outside the mansion walls from them. He kept his sword out to look serious and deter questions. He finally made it all the way back to the hall to _their_ bedroom. He had been getting nervous, but he sighed in relief upon seeing his last target.

“Flynn?” Stalyan called out nervously as she ran toward him. “Flynn, are you okay?!”

“Oh my God, Stal!” He sheathed his sword and rushed to meet her.

“Flynn, what-” They locked arms, and she looked up to him, desperate.

Eugene grabbed her face and kissed her, as if in relief. “I was getting worried about you!” He kept his eyes on her, looking worried indeed, and replaced his hands on her shoulders.

But she kept her eyes looking about on high alert. “What was that explosion?! What’s going on?”

He weighed how much to reveal. “I don’t know,” he answered, “But we should get out of here.”  
  
“Why do you have that?” She looked to his sword.

“A guard lent me one as soon as we heard that explosion. Just in case.” His crooked smile popped out as he shrugged.

She absently nodded in agreement. “Is it the Princess?”

Eugene’s eyes widened a little too much, but she did not see. Stalyan did look up to him for direction, but he had already returned to his scene face: dumbfounded. “Is what the Princess?”

“That explosion!” she snapped, and smacked his shoulder.

Eugene flinched in offence, his better state of mind not used to her treatment. He did seem to take her suggestion into consideration, and nodded with a shrug. “ _Possibly_. But don’t worry,” he quickly comforted, “Everything is under control.” He embraced her securely, feeling for any obvious concealed weapons, while his hand ran over her hair. “Stal,” he released her and held her face. “Listen. Anthony’s commanding the guards, your dad’s evacuating, and he sent me to get you. It’s gonna be alright, I _promise_. We’ve been outta worse straits than this, eh?”

“Ye-ah,” she chuckled, some of her worries eased, but her sinister confidence came flooding back. “Yeah! Let’s go get that lil royal brat!”

His stomach sank as panic rose. “Stal-” _Give her everything she wants, just protect HER, and don’t let her do anything else to hurt her!_ He licked his lips, mind racing. “Stal wait-”

“What?” she asked openly but seriously.

 _She wants ME…_ Eugene gathered her hands, and looked into her troubled eyes. “You are my _wife._ I will protect you, but we should get outta here, we should leave. Let’s go- let’s just _go_. Where no one will ever- find us...” The haunting voice in his memory finished the line for him. _No…_ Eugene gulped. _Everything is going to be FINE._

“You want to _run away?_ ” she asked in confusion.

“And everything will be just like it, _always_ should have been. Your dad’s evacuating, too.” He searched her eyes for suspicion, while falsely admiring them. He rotely brushed her hair back over her ear, whispering, “Just, forget everyone else. Everyone who’s not us.” She watched as he looked to her lips. He took a little gasping breath. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she answered as she leaned in. They kissed, but only briefly before she pulled away. “There’s a secret passage out the back, a tunnel through the canyon wall.”

His look turned gung-ho again. “Alright then!” They grabbed hands, but jerked in different directions. “But this way! Come on!” She ceded to him.

* * *

Eugene led her down toward the Great Hall, then halted right outside.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her hand still comfortably in his.

He turned his most concerned face to her. _If I didn’t know how much you deserved it, I’d almost feel bad for what I’m about to do. But wow, I really made it to here!_

“Flynn, what-?” She searched his eyes.

And his eyes changed; his lips curled back as he carefully spit out what he had been waiting a month to say out loud to her face. “You could never take my Dream from me.”

“What’re you talking about-” Suddenly she felt Eugene’s friendly grip on her hand, switch to snatching her wrist. She looked down, then back up to him as she struggled to get away from him.

He easily yanked her back. She squealed and stumbled against him, then took to trying to twist her wrist out, to pull him off, to pound on his chest... He quickly grabbed the new cord of rope on his belt from under his cape. He shoved her back off as he caught her other wrist, too; both behind her back now.

“Flynn!” she yelled, then screamed worse, “ _FLYNN!!!_ ”

He ignored her. His mouth was also preoccupied holding the other end of the rope in his mouth as he wrapped around her wrists, as tightly as he could, tying knot after knot. Finally though, he spit it out as he was getting aggravated with her. “Urgh, will you stop struggling?!”

“Wait! No! Flynn, stop it! _STOP IT!_ ”

“Yeah, I don’t think you know what those words mean, _Honey._ ”

“What?! What are you _doing?!_ ”

He lifted her up off her kicking feet and, while she screamed, pushed her back down onto the ground, then straddled her to sit on her ass, with a knee dug into her back, while he finished tying. “What’s that, _Sweet?_ What, were you somehow under the impression you’re _not_ light as a feather to me?”

“Flynn, what are you doing?!” she cried again.

He finished the knots, stood her back up and shoved her into Lance’s waiting arms in the doorway. He got right back in her face, again looking so full of remorse and concern for her.

“Flynn, comon, you don’t have to do this. You don’t wanna do this, to _me?!_ I just got you back!”

He cupped her cheek. “Stal, I’m so sorry, Baby,” he said with exaggerated sorrow, then sighed. He pursed his lips and hung his head a moment.

“Flynn!” she cried out for him. “Why are you doing this?!”

He picked his head up, his reddened eyes full of tears. Trembling, he choked out, “Thank you, Stalyan, for _everything_ you’ve taught me.” Suddenly, like flipping a switch, his face relaxed to a stoic and calm seriousness. His voice was smooth and sure. “Like how to cry at will. And how to lie through my teeth, basing them in truths, with perfect eye contact.”

“Wha...” she gasped, her breath knocked out with the full shock of complete betrayal finally hitting her.

He unpleasantly held her chin up with one curled finger, genuinely enjoying his scrumptious reveal a little too much. He looked down his nose at her, and grinned devilishly. “‘It’s my _job_ to make you _think_ I feel something.’” He flicked his finger off her chin, at the same time she jerked away.

“You dirty, rotten, son of a _bitch!_ ” Stalyan continued on rattling off insults.

While she was still going, Eugene smiled with closed eyes and nodded, then stood up tall again. “I’ll never forget those lessons.” He walked over and held the door open for Lance to drag her into the Great Hall.

“You really think you’ll get away with this?!” she carried on. “I will kill you _myself_ when I get outta this! But oh, I can’t _wait_ to see what else my father will do to you in the meantime!”

Eugene turned back toward her with the largest smirk on, and admonished her. “Aw, ma _chère_ mademoiselle!” Then pulled his cape back and sidestepped so she could see her similarly bound father in the corner.

Her anger fell away as she gasped, suddenly terrified. “ _Daddy?_ ”

Eugene stepped behind Lance to resecure the doors, then headed back around to their captive audience. “Ya know, the Captain of the Corona Royal Guard has, _fired_ me on more than one occasion, and I’m not sure if I’ve got any of his authority on the road,” he mused as he strolled toward one of the few narrow windows, then turned back, serious and confident again, with a bite in his words. “But I’m sure MY _Princess_ won’t mind if I tell you, _you’re under arrest._ And I want a divorce.”

Stalyan coughed a little and looked away, unamused and stubborn.

With a serene smile, Eugene disregarded her, then waltzed back over to the Baron. “I learned a lot, as Flynn Rider, working for you. But I’ve learned even more as Eugene Fitzherbert. Like, trust, and respect. And what real love can _really_ _feel_ like. And, _when_ to _use_ Flynn Rider’s lies.”

“If _anything_ happens to _any_ us here,” the Baron growled, “The rest of my men will make sure whoever is left of you, will _pay_. You’ve seen for yourself; I have dozens of heavily armed guards all over this property, and all over this _city_.”

Eugene narrowed his eyes at him again, pressed his smile into a thin line.

The Baron scoffed. “You’re gonna need an army to get outta here alive!”

Eugene grinned cheekily. He motioned for Lance and Hookfoot to drag the Baron to the window, and they did. “Will they suffice?” He nodded out to the neverending swarm of golden-clad regiments with purple banners flying.

The Baron’s frantic eyes darted from company to company. The river of gold poured out of the city, down the roads leading to the mansion, and into the gardens, streams of purple amongst them. His snarl spread across his reddening face. “Oh, aren’t you _proud,_ ” he sneered facetiously. “Got your little girlfriend to come and save you.”

Eugene held his head high. “I am proud. You clearly had no idea what kind of princess you were messing with when you kidnapped us. Without her, I would’ve been dead _long_ before now.”

Stalyan called over, through tears. “You _don’t_ deserve her. And _no one,_ ” she choked, “No one could _ever love_ a _liar_ and a _cheat_ like you.” She spat toward him.

The Baron continued morosely, “You’ll never be anything but a thief.”

Eugene surprised himself with how even their words could not get past the golden shields he had just witnessed with his own eyes, and the note he had memorized in his heart. “You may think that you’re the top mob boss, too big to fail. Well you’re done now. No more shady deals and shitty working contracts, no more manipulating and _terrorizing_ everyone, including _little girls_.” He included Stalyan in the rest of his address. “You may think you owned me, that I was just another loyal soldier or _dog_ , a _plaything_ for you, that I could never be anything more. But I _am_ more _._ I have _always_ been _more_ than ‘just’ a thief. I am Eugene Fitzherbert, future Prince Consort to the Legendary Lost Princess Rapunzel, of the Kingdom of Corona. And I’m going _home._ ”

Eugene turned to Lance and Hookfoot and in a regal voice commanded, “Greet the Captain of the Guard at the gate, and announce that the Baron, his daughter, and-” He glanced to Anthony. “I guess his number one _stooge_ are all in custody. The rest are theirs to pick off.” He climbed the steps and sat in the Baron’s seat, the approximate throne, with his sword across his knees. “Let them in.”

* * *

The great doors opened again, this time revealing the Captain of the Guard, and today, the commander of the army, stomping his way in, sword drawn. Lance and Hookfoot followed, unarmed but at ease. Flanking them, six guards had crossbows leveled at whoever they would find in front of them. Behind them, more infantry awaited, still in formation. The Captain paused in a readied defensive stance, war face on, awaiting a possible attack.

“Cap!” Eugene joyfully cheered. “Good ta see ya, _buddy!_ ” He jumped to his feet and began approaching him; the sword left forgotten on the armrests.

It greatly pained the Captain to say it through his shock and disbelief. “ _Fitzherbert?_ ”

“Yours truly!” He flung his arms out, spilling his cape off his shoulders to gather at his back. Besides his ecstatic friendliness bursting out, he showcased he had nothing to hide. Conli, Tom, Bryan, Greno, Stan, and Pete all lowered their weapons and relaxed. “Aw, and you guys came, too? I’m touched!” The Captain stood down, as right in front of him, Eugene halted, clicked his heels at attention, arms pinned at his sides, back straight as an arrow, and with a big puppy grin on his face. “All hostile parties subdued; the Weasel, the Baron, and his _daughter_ in custody;” he nodded to the corner. “And,” he bowed low and dramatically, “The mansion, _and the city_ , Captain, are yours.”

The Captain’s mouth hung open as he looked around. “Uh…”

Eugene smirked smugly and crossed his arms. “Told ya I would never betray Corona, and certainly never her lovely spirited Princess.” Quietly and sincerely hopeful, Eugene’s smile fell and his voice wavered as he leaned in close and asked, “No need to thank me, Sir, but, just please tell me, _is she alright?_ ”

His attention snapped back to Eugene’s face of raw worry. He smiled softly, and nodded affirmatively. “Her Royal Highness was back up and at command within the hour.”

Eugene heaved such a sigh of relief that he swayed where he stood.

He reached out and took his shoulder, with a surprisingly tender touch. “You did good, Son.”

Such simple words took Eugene’s breath away again. _Son._ Eugene felt his neck twinge, suddenly choked with emotion. _Son._ He frowned hard, pursing his lips to stop himself, but still sniffled. _Son._ “Thank you, Sir.”

The Captain smirked. “The Princess was right about you all along, wasn’t she.”

“She’s always right, Sir. I can hardly ever beat her at puzzles or games, so I knew she’d get a simple little code and a double agent strategy.”

“Ya know, there was never any question I’d lead a march on the city, and come right on in to get you.” He threw a mischievous look at Eugene.

Eugene looked up at him meekly, but laughed good-heartedly. “Whether I was lying or not.”

“Yup. You were close with the whole royal family for a year. Whether you really were just the luckiest son of a bitch in the world who got tripped up somehow by an ex-girlfriend, or if ya really had turned into a dumbass, you were a liability.”

Eugene winced.

“And, our responsibility.” He took one last look around, grinning with vindication of his own. He sighed. “Even Shorty’s accounted for?”

Both men watched as Shorty was somehow sipping yam stew out of the ladle he held; though no pot was in sight.

Without peeling his curious eyes away, Eugene said with certainty to Cap, “But you knew I was lying yesterday morning.”

“I did.” Cap did not look away either. “Or at least, I would’ve bet my life on it. One little speech in front of your alleged kidnappers? You were compromised,” he said as he shrugged. “We had all talked beforehand, obviously. The Princess and I knew that if you were truly trapped here, and just playing along nicely with them, that we couldn’t give you away. Cassandra, though, didn’t trust you, and I think still doesn’t.” Then he shook or nodded his head along as he continued, “But, I _know_ Flynn Rider. Chased ya _10 years._ And that wasn’t him.” He looked back, studying his face again, taking pride in his accuracy of reading the younger man in question. “That was _you. Scared._ ”

Eugene grinned and finally looked back to him fully as well. “Or maybe you’ve gotten to know _me_ so well, that now, you could finally see Flynn Rider for what he’s really always been.”

The Captain smirked again with a friendly grunt, then tossed his head over his shoulder, motioning to Eugene. “Go on, get outta here.”

Eugene took a deep breath, his chest swelling with pride and ecstatic anticipation, his eyes filling with gratitude and tears. He squeezed the Captain’s hand on him, but let go as he grabbed at the Captain’s chest and shoulders in a hug. “It is really, _really_ good to see you again. Thank you _so much_ for coming.”

The Captain stiffened awkwardly under him, but cracked quickly. “Heh,” he smiled, and embraced him back with his free arm. “Good to _have_ you back, _Eugene._ ”

They separated, smiled, then continued on their ways. The Captain continued directing his men in rounding up the tied prisoners, and how to go about corralling the rest. Eugene ran to the door they had entered from.

“Eugene!” Cap called. “Wait!”

He stopped and looked back.

“Take Max. And Pete? Escort him to Her Royal Highness.”

He beamed at the old man and casually saluted him. He and Pete nodded to each other, then took off running together.

* * *

Pete sped his horse back through the city, through a thin wooded area, and out to the hidden encampment, with Max and Eugene right on his tail. Max was literally chomping at the bit, whining to urge Pete’s horse to go faster.

Finally, Pete slowed slightly as they entered the camp, and a cheering applause went up from the extras who had stayed behind. Eugene smiled and nodded absently to them, unable to focus on anything but where Pete was heading. Near the center, their light gallop came down to merely a trot as Pete pointed out the larger and slightly more decorated tent.

“Right here!”

Eugene did not wait for Max to stop before hopping off and stumbling toward the front flap. He whacked it away and burst through, but abruptly halted. He squinted, and before his eyes could adjust to the dim light inside the tent, he heard the joyous shriek.

“ _ **EUGENE!!!**_ ”

His eyes shot wide open, still blinded from the lighting change, but he instinctively looked for its direction. All he saw was a blur of gold before he felt the weight hit his torso, and he was suddenly being squeezed to death. His hands reflexively held her sides as he braced his stance. "Blondie...!" The sound popped out of his lips without a thought, but with his voice so soft. Looking down, he saw the red feathery top of the golden guard’s helmet she unexpectedly wore. Underneath, though, was an undeniable 70 feet of golden hair attached to the petite sprite he still could hardly believe was real.

Standing off to the side, he noticed Cassandra, also in uniform, watching them, on edge and wary. But he had no time for her yet.

His body was busy recognizing and focusing on every memorized curve of hers, and how it fit against his, despite his foreign clothing and her starch uniform and breastplate. One hand darted to dig in and grab a handful of her braid, the other sunk into the thickness at the nape of her neck to hold the base of her skull. He moaned out at the comforting reassurance that gave him; she whimpered at his clinginess. Beyond that, though, he shifted his hands to cross her back under the braid, holding her armored shoulders, and, unsatisfied with that, they ran down her back and sides. One hand reached out just past the metal plate armor to the top of her pants, clutching the side of her hips. The other settled across her back, holding her opposite upper arm. She was standing tall and breathing well, and his knees felt weak. His cracked open heart wanted to pour all of his love out. The first bit of which, came in the form of confirming her safety. “You’re alright?” he instinctively gasped.

“Yes, I’m fine- and, I’m sooo _SORRY!_ ” She hid her face in his chest. “I’m SORRY! I- I- I… I just-” Her arms locked him in, her hands clutching fistfuls of the back of his jacket under the cape, holding as tight to him as possible. “ _Pleeease, plEEEase, Eugee-_ ” Her voice devolved into a hiccupping fit. _“I’m sorry,”_ she hoarsely whispered through it.

Eugene heard himself shushing her, and saw himself calmly rubbing her back, but felt his fingers achingly reorienting themselves to the shape and feel of her. “ _I’m here_ ,” he breathed back to her, “I’m here, Blondie. I’m _right_ here. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” But his focus zoomed in on the very first thing he had heard her say, as if he was hearing it for the very first time all over again. _It’s been so long…_ He had not heard it with his ears this time but with his heart, and it freed his every memory of her ever saying it. It felt like the first time again, like they had almost died, but suddenly he was being truly recognized for the first time in his life. It felt like he was just waking up again, feeling vibrant, refreshed, and strong, after sleeping for a month. “ _Ho-ooh_ , I promise. Nowhere you don’t want me,” he clarified with a sad smile.

She sniffled and inhaled deeply until she had regained control of her breathing, then continued, "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"You can see me all ya like now, Darlin’,” he tried to smile. “Just, say that again for me," he adamantly requested of her. “ _Please_ ,” he added quietly.

She froze. "I…” She nervously lifted her head and slowly looked up to his face, terrified of what she would see in it, finally, after all this time. Both forced to face their fears of truly seeing each other laid bare again, they dared to trust; dared to see and be seen. But when their eyes quickly connected, those fears melted away without a chance.

Eugene’s face was knotted up with both agony and joy. Brow pinched and creased thrice over, cheeks bunched high with a sad smile. With the amber gleam of the lantern light in the dark tent, she could see the wet sheen coming over his dark mahogany eyes, as they searched hers right back with the same hope.

“‘I thought I'd never see you again?’" she repeated questioningly, still artificially broadening her smile, still instinctually worried that any unnoticed, careless slight might make him turn away again.

"No," he chuckled and smiled in adoration, the corners of his eyes pinching adorably in on themselves. He shook his head, trying to think of the word, distracted by how his arms finally held her, and hers him. He raised a gloved hand to hover tentatively over her cheek, before she finally leaned into it and his thumb rubbed over her freckles. The change in its topology from his finger’s indentation, however, rolled a tear out her eye and down toward his finger. "Mmy-... _name._ "

Her eyes lit up with understanding, and she settled in to true comfort. " _Eugene_ ," she gasped as a full grin burst out of her. "EUGENE!" she squealed, bouncing a little as she threw her arms around his neck and continued crying onto his shoulder. “Oh, _Eugene,_ I am so _sorry!_ I’m so sorry I didn’t… I should have just said YES! B-but I- I, I just didn’t know what to say, but _pleeease-_! How could I ever make it up to you?!”

 _She wants to say YES!!!_ He squeezed her as tightly as he could, and a giddy chuckle burst out from behind his smile while at the same time he felt himself become overwhelmingly choked up. “Oh, _stooop!_ ” he sweetly whined, humorously chastising her. “You stop that right now. That is no way for a- what, a general? Commander? Or whatever, but especially my _Princess_ to be acting. It’s _me_ who should be apologizing to _you_.” He revelled in how they always fit together so well, in finally having her weight on him, her arms around him, her face pressed into him. His head tucked into the crook of her neck in the most exhausted sigh of relief, and he felt her breathing and bouncing calm down. “‘Cause Sunshine, you did absolutely _nothing_ wrong. Just, _shhh…_ Please. Everything’s okay now, I promise. _I_ am the one who should be sorry, and I am, but I’m here now. I’m _here_. With _you._ And there is _nowhere_ else in the entire world I would want to be, _except_ here with you.”

“I- I-” she gasped, her lips daring to brush his neck. Whatever soap scent was left smelled different than the usual she knew, but his own smooth warm skin under soft neck stubble, that was all him. That was what she missed, what excited every nerve in her body. “Eugene, I… Do you... stil-?”

Eugene smiled ear to ear as he pulled his face away suddenly and jumped to say it himself, cutting her voice off but still entangled in her arms. “I love you, Rapunzel, I _always_ _have_. I mean,” a crooked smile flashed, “Come on, Blondie. It’s _me_. You _really do_ _know_ me. I’m still the same person, I swear. And I’m all _yours._ I’m still _your Eu_ gene.” His hands gripped more tightly in on her with each emphasis, including when he said his name the way she always pronounced it. “I _always_ have been.”

Giggles bubbled out of her from joyous relief. She leaped up and pulled herself up on his shoulders, while his arms wrapped around to catch her, tightly securing her in midair. She wrapped her legs around him, and he in turn swooped an arm down to support her bottom. She squeaked at the touch, getting used to his physicality all over again. _“I love you, too,”_ she breathed in his ear, _“And I’m yours…”_

He spun her around in a full circle, both of them laughing in delight. He took in deep breath after deep breath of her, parched for her essence. They were so familiar, that to finally be filled with each other again almost felt too normal to seem special, but it was that comfortably safe normalcy they had been longing for. They collapsed into each other, together one soft welcoming bed of their own mixed scents, after the longest and hardest time away. “Oh _Blondie!_ ” He chuckled with the sweet release of tension. “It has been a _looong_ month.”

“ _Way_ too long,” she chuckled with him.

Lance had followed not too far behind with Stan, but then he alone entered the tent to join the reunion. As he noted the happy couple, he smiled with a quiet, “Heh,” then crossed his arms and stepped aside to watch.

“ _Alll_ -right.” Cassandra leveled a crossbow at Eugene, who still had a dagger on his belt, a sword sheath she could not tell was empty, and for all she knew, his Bowie knife in his breast pocket. “Not so fast, there, _pal._ ” Her eyes darted between him and unarmed Lance, who raised his hands immediately.

Eugene groaned as he returned Rapunzel’s feet to the ground, but their arms remained entwined. He shook his head and turned to gently speak to her. “Cass _a_ ndra,” he sneered playfully, “Please. I don’t need threats here.”

“Not a threat. I’m just aiming.”

“Cass, _no_ ,” Rapunzel whined in agreement for her to stand down. “I don’t care what he’s sa-”

“You just _gave out_ all of Corona’s secrets?!” she shrieked.

“What?” Eugene looked between the two women, confused, and Lance was even more lost. Rapunzel sighed and ran a hand over her face.

“The tunnels and the maps-!” Cassandra screeched. “Any stupid little thing you got stowed away in that fat head of yours!” She gestured with the crossbow while aiming at his forehead.

As soon as she began speaking again, though, Eugene put it together and began shaking his head. “Ohhh, no. No no no. Ya _see,_ _I-_ ”

“What did you tell them?!” She bellowed this time, and unlatched the safety.

“CASS!” Rapunzel cried, while spreading her arms out and stepping in front of Eugene, trying to cover him.

“Cass,” Eugene began, pointedly keeping behind Rapunzel’s protective breastplate, but also pushing her forward as he held onto, and spoke over, her shoulder. “Do you seriously believe I would help my _worst_ enemy _overthrow_ Corona? The kingdom that’s saved my life and erased my past and replaced it all with absolute amazingness?” He groaned in renewed frustration. “All those times you saw me reading the Book of Hearts a few months ago? I was reading the love letters and the story! Come on, what do you take me for? A hopeless romantic or a militaristic traitor? Plus!” He crossed his arms, getting cocky. “It’s something that’s kept locked up, so it’s just a natural challenge to my very being. I didn’t remake _any_ maps- and they _know_ that,” he pointed toward the Baron’s mansion. “I was just trying to get them to trust me- so they wouldn’t _kill_ any of _YOU!_ ”

“And what are you doing now?!”

He realized the situation, and groaned again. _Trying to get you to trust me..._ “Cass, come on.”

“Whose side are you on already!”

“Gee, I dunno, Cass _aaa_ ndra, whose side’ve I already proven I’d die for? That I’d stick by even after being turned down? TWICE?! Huh?!?!”

Rapunzel cringed, red with guilt and embarrassment.

“I _gift-wrapped_ THEE Baron AND his _daughter_ for you! And Anthony the Weasel and forty goons!”

“Cass, he saved my _life!_ ” Rapunzel screamed between them.

Eugene’s outrage froze cold as he turned Rapunzel by her shoulders to see her frantic state eye to eye. “I… will never forgive _myself_ for that happening to you, _at all_. For all of this really, but especially for,” he choked, then took her hand, and held out his other hand for Lance to take. “For almost losing _either_ of you.”

Cassandra’s expression softened. She looked to Rapunzel to concur, whose face was begging her in desperation. She lowered the weapon, but was not happy about letting it go.

Eugene merely sighed and shook his head at Cassandra’s defiant stance, then gave his full attention back to Rapunzel. He brushed his hand past her hair and high uniform collar, to touch her neck while thumbing her chin. “I never wanted to leave you, Love. I’ll admit, I was feeling _down_ after our last conversation, last month, and I snatched an opportunity to talk with Lance alone about it and try to sort my own head and feelings out, but I never _wanted_ to be _away from you_ for a single _second_.” He was certain to deepen how they stared into each other’s eyes for the next part. “And I’m sorry for our little game of lying yesterday, but you figured it out. I knew you would. I’m so sorry, I know you looked so _crushed_ , but I had to. Everything- _everything_ I said out on that field, you _know_ the opposite is true.”

“I know,” she squeaked, choking up herself, but trying to smile. “‘Welcome to Opposite Day,’” she recited with a shrug.

He beamed at her. “ _I love you,_ Blondie, I’ve _always_ loved you. You have to know it. You _have to_ know that’s true. With all my heart, I _never_ _stopped_ loving you. And not wanting to get married _could never_ diminish how much I care about you. That’s _why_ I had to act like that.” He lost his voice as he finished. “ _Because_ I _love_ you. So much.” His voice devolved to a rasp. “ _And they still almost got you anyway_.”

Rapunzel felt her resolve to hold it somewhat together just slip away. She pitched forward again, burying her face in his shoulder. She nodded at his outpoured heart, and began mumbling out an incoherent answer. Deep breaths ushered his scent back into her life force, in between hysterical giggles and sobs.

Eugene grinned down at her, holding her close and not caring what she was saying so long as she was happy with him. “I will always choose to protect you. You know that, no matter what that means.” He tipped the helmet off of her head and let it fall to the ground. He ran both hands over her hair, brushing it back, before kissing her bare forehead. “But I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a better job of that… Oh God I still can’t even believe it! You got my letters? You’re really _here?_ ” his voice cracked, while she smiled and nodded against his arms that seemed to want to hide her away in them forever. “I still can’t believe you really… You really did all this. For me. You...”

“Yes, _of course_ for you, Eugene. And I really am _here_ now, too.” She let out a sad but relieved chuckle as she reached to hold his cheeks in turn; they bunched into a smile. “We went back to Corona to get help, because we had _no idea_ what happened to any of you. It was like you just vanished! I was going _crazy_ wondering if you were dead or alive and what happened!”

Eugene chuckled quietly, nuzzling the top of her head, lost in the scent of her hair again. “ _You_ are not _crazy._ But I might as well have been dead for a while...”

“And when we got the announcement that you’d- that _said_ you-” she let a sob speak for what they all knew she was referring to. “I thought _I_ would die...“

His hands tensed on her as he winced at the confirmation of all that she knew and felt, he himself feeling guiltily happy that she did in fact care, and so much at that. He finally had to pinch the bridge of his nose and wipe his eyes of the tears already there. “ _I’m_ sorry, I’m _so sorry,_ Sweetheart. I didn’t have any options left, but you are the only one I want to belong to. Blondie. My muse, my treasure, my passion, my flame...”

Rapunzel pushed up off his chest a little, pressing her hands into his pectorals after the longest time of not touching him. Questioningly, she looked up at him. His smooth face, sporting just that little tuft she had never seen anyone ever pull off anywhere near as handsomely as he. His polished mahogany eyes ate her up and cherried cheeks glowed with a blissful, delectable smile. She naturally returned the smile, hopeful that, if he was looking at her like _that,_ all was indeed right in their world again. “But then- but then when I saw your letter, even when I just saw your _handwriting_ , I knew- I _just knew,_ you had to be in trouble.”

“That’s my girl,” he breathed almost just to himself. “‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel,’” he recited, running his fingers through where her hair swooped loosely before being bound back in the braid. “‘Let down your hair,’ and kick these guys’ asses for me cuz _I’m_ trapped!” He laughed out ad-libbing what he had implied in the coded letter.

His laugh wrapped around and tickled her like a breeze of fresh air. She returned it with giddiness and glee, long thought dead inside her til he breathed this new life into her. “Oh, I’ve missed you!” she cried out as she threw her arms up around his neck for them to embrace more tightly again.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Eugene’s mouth whispered on the shell of her ear. “ _Ho,_ I missed you, too, my Sunshine. You ARE my New Dream. Always will be, and I have _always_ meant that.”

She crumpled to a whimpering mess. “And you’re mine… I'm just so _sorry,_ Eugene! I was so stupid-...”

He slipped his arms back behind her monstrous braid and pecked a kiss on her temple as he did so. He squeezed her small form again, as tight as he could. “You are not stupid. You’re the smartest person I know. And like I said, please, _you_ have got _nothing_ to be sorry for, Sugar.”

“But still, I should have-...” She shook her head as he loosened his arms to let her breathe, but her hands on his collar pulled him down toward her.

They brushed their cheeks together, testing the waters. Noses aligned, closer, and closer; smiles grew. Open lips, finally so close after being farther apart than ever before, at last got within each other’s power and magnetized. Ignoring the presence of their friends, they did not hold back moaning into each other as they finally tasted each other again, tongues dancing as they drank up, and grabbed at each other, reconnecting their heartaches. He clutched her tight, and she gripped the back of his neck. He whimpered at her reception, and she hummed at his desperation.

“I love you,” she hardly pulled away to say. “And I’m sorry about your proposal but-”

He rushed back to kiss her hard again, to stop her from talking about his stupid proposal ideas. All that mattered was how they felt. Botched proposals aside, he trusted in that.

She moved to speak again, “But I- When I had the chance, I should’ve-”

He gasped for air to cut her off again. “Forget the damn proposal. _You_ are all I wanted. Seriously. Don’t worry about any proposals right now. Please, Rapunzel. _You_ are everything; and you still love me? That’s all I could ever need.” Eugene sighed heavily, and with great effort, released her from the embrace. _She deserves to make a fully informed decision…_ He gripped her upper arms, and pried her off a little. “But, uh, I suppose we do need to talk, don’t we?” He immediately cringed.

“Uh- wha?” she questioned. Lance and Cassandra cringed at his words as well, leaving her more confused as she looked around. “Eugene, what do you mean?”

He jumped to explain himself. “Blondie- I don’t mean it like _that,_ though, no no, I mean- I don’t mean to say it like, ‘we need to talk,’ but… _we do_... need to... _talk_ about some stuff.”

“Nothing else matters right now.” She shook her head and shrugged, wiping her face and sniffling, all while her bright smile shone through. She leaned in towards him again, pushing against his forced separation. “Whether I thought you’d run off and _married someone else_ or not, I had to save you. I just had to,” she declared, through tears of conflicted joy and jealousy still bubbling up.

Lance rubbed his head, and conspicuously turned away.

“You really didn't,” Eugene morosely insisted to her. “But I mean, the fact that you showed up with a literal _army,_ is the sexiest thing ever.” He backed away again as she chuckled, but he tucked in on himself, arms crossed to keep them from snatching her back. "Listen, though. Just _listen,_ please, before we get into anything else. I- _love you_ , more than I can even comprehend. I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I _want_ to be by your side, forever. I just need you to understand, that I did NOT go into this, _thing_ _here_ , willingly. Not at _all._ She- they _poisoned_ Lance!” His arms shot out to gesture. “The same as they did to you. And I didn't have _any_ chance to hesitate. He almost died come nightfall as it was. And I'm sorry, Honey, I am _sooo_ sorry, but I had to save him. I will _never_ be able to _apologize_ enough for this. But my feelings for you, have not changed at all, not since I fell in love with you over a year ago. I _didn’t_ go back to them; we were _taken_ , and trapped. So, for what it’s- _worth..._ " He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear it himself. He managed to force them back open to look upon her, as wet as they were, and as terrified as he was of her judgment. "I still wish I could marry you,” he stated with finality in his tone, but shakiness in his voice.

“It's true,” Lance backed up. “It’s all true.”

“Wait," she gasped. "I thought you were mad at me for not saying yes!"

"No,” Eugene quickly countered, with a hand flying up and waving in protest. “No, Blondie, I could never be _mad_ at you for that. Not for anything like that. You’d told me you needed _time_ , and I promised I’d be _patient_. I wouldn’t be surprised if _you_ were angry with _me_ for getting ancy and trying to ask again. But,” he sighed, still overcome with relief of getting it off his chest, even though he knew he had to explain the situation further still. “I'm sorry.” He finally took her hands back and held them between themselves. “I don't know if you _would ever_ have wanted to marry me- or, or maybe it's that you don't want to get married at all, or just didn't want to put a label on what we used to have, but-”

“‘Used to have?’” Rapunzel repeated, alarmed.

“Rapunzel,” his voice strained, reluctant to clarify. He sighed again, released her hands, and pulled his left glove off. “She made me-” He held up his left hand in a frustrated fist, where a gold band, emblazoned with the Baron's sigil, still sat on his ring finger. “If I married her, they’d give us the, _antivenom_ to save him. And,” he glanced to Lance, then down to the ring as he twirled it, “I’m sure you can guess which I chose.”

Rapunzel tilted her head and stared at the ring, but quickly gasped and covered her mouth. “Wait, it’s _true?!_ ”

Eugene could not watch her. He kept his attention on the ring itself, but twisted it off. He chucked it down onto the planning table to bounce amidst the mini figurines, then closed his eyes. “I'm _so_ sorry,” he repeated yet again, more softly this time, rubbing his bare ring finger. “But I had to save him. Lance is,” he opened his eyes but kept them straight down on the ground. “He’s like my only family- from before I met you. We’re _closer_ than brothers, and, God knows I love you, and your family and everyone, but, I love _him_ , too…”

“Wait, but...?” Rapunzel looked between him and the ring on the table, almost confused. “No…” she concluded, unwilling to let this have already happened. “No it CAN’T!” Hers eyes darted to him, frantic. “You really _DID?!_ ”

He desperately took her shoulders and looked her square in the face. “Blondie, listen! I did, really, yes, out of my love for my oldest best friend, I had to sacrifice my New Dream.” The back of his hand brushed down her cheek. “But I am certainly _not_ in love with _Stalyan_. _Years ago,_ I thought I was. But that wasn't real love.” He shook his head. “I know that now. But ring or no ring, no matter how much I hate and despise her, _yes,_ there _is_ a marriage contract. Even if I'm counter-abducted back to Corona. Even if I run away.” His eyes begged her to understand. “But-”

She did understand. But as she did, she begged him right back in desperation. “No... No, _Eugeeene?_ I understand had to save him, but-! You can't- this can't-! Especially since she _forced_ you to by poisoning your best friend?! That’s just-!” Completely flustered, she lost her words. Other people could catch her off guard, put on the spot and leave her stuttering awkwardly; but with Eugene, she found she could not say much at all. She turned and stepped away, simply in an effort to try to clear her head.

“But that doesn’t mean-” he gently argued. But he took her shoulders again once he realized she was about to walk away. He frantically cried, hyperventilating, “No, _don’t-_ please!” as he turned her back toward him.

Her terrified eyes locked back to his face, trapped in a paradox of her generalized fear versus her innate trust in him.

Likewise, he was overcome in horror at both having seen her turn away, and at himself for forcibly turning her back. But he held onto her, grounding her there, keeping them linked for any tiny bit longer. He searched her face in turn, desperate to extinguish her pain. “Please don’t- I didn’t mean a _word_ of it to _her_. I’m sure your dad will grant me a divorce, to end it, and then _we_ would be free to...” He trailed off as his fingers slipped down her arms a little. “I mean, if you ever wanted to, we could… But so _pleeease_ , my Sunshine, don’t walk away just yet.”

She blinked hard, uncertain, but held his hand where it was, cupping her face. “A divorce...” she repeated, merely dazed. She had studied it in her law books, but never met anyone divorced, and no one talked about it.

“Divorce,” he repeated with a worried smile, suddenly hating the topic, but trying to remain positive given its overall context. He took a deep breath. “It’s…” _Oh, God, Blondie, I’m sorry to reduce it to this and bring back marriage talk, but…_ He licked his lips, then spoke fast to get through it. “Well, a marriage is actually a type of legal contract, and a divorce is the dissolving of that contract.”

He watched her eyes as she looked away, reabsorbing the information and mulling it over. “I know…” she said faintly.

“Honestly, though,” he winced, “Come to think of it, I don’t really know what this will mean for us still being allowed to get married, with you being the Princess and me being divorced. Though I suppose I was pretty much the bottom of the barrel already.” He laughed at himself in good humor. “I mean I hope it wouldn’t matter, but I don’t know. And again,” he shrugged defeatistly, “That’s even if you would ever want to…” She finally brought her eyes back to lock with his, giving him courage as he continued. “But no matter what happens, I will _always_ love you.”

Her anxiety visibly eased as she calmed with some deep breaths. “So, then you…?”

“I never wanted this in the first place!” he jumped to with desperation.

Rapunzel took hold of his forearms, keeping them there, close on her. She winced but smiled up to him, as she breathed easier, full of bright new hope.

“I didn’t even really want this _back then!_ ” he chuckled.

Behind him, Lance honed in on him. He stepped forward and leaned past Eugene, attempting to give his friend an out before he fully released this can of worms. “I'm so sorry for all the trouble, Your Highness-”

“No,” Eugene cut him off. “No, it's not your fault, either. It's mine for leaving her like that. I should’ve broken off the engagement sooner, or at least properly- or just never asked her at all...”

“Lance,” Rapunzel sweetly assured him, “No, I don't blame you for any of this either, but...” She turned her newly intrigued pout back to Eugene. “You never should’ve asked…?”

“What?” Eugene said, startled at her heartbreaking expression. “No, not you-”

Cassandra readjusted the grip on her dagger. “You should’ve _broken off_ WHAT engagement sooner?”

Lance looked back to Eugene as well. Annoyed at his futile effort, he glared and frowned with his arms crossed again, this time in frustration.

“ _Cass,_ ” Eugene gasped warily, then tried to laugh it off. “Ya know I appreciate your fierce protective streak over Rapunzel, but right now I am _happy_ to spill all the beans I can, so just take it easy there, Tiger.”

“Yeah, _now_.” She rolled her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling this involves a _secret_ even Rapunzel doesn’t know?”

“Because I didn’t want her to worry!” he shouted over the her-in-question’s head.

“Eugene?” Rapunzel looked up to him. “What do you mean, you shouldn’t have left her like, like, _what?_ What happened?!”

“Rapunzel,” he looked back down to her, strained.

Lance rolled his eyes at him and turned away shaking his head.

Eugene side-eyed him back quickly, but otherwise disregarded him. “Blondie, you know my past was never a _secret_ I ever tried to keep from you. You know you’ve asked me about stuff and I’ve answered you as truthfully as I can about everything. But, a, _previous engagement_ never came up. _Stalyan_ never came up. You knew we used to work for the Baron; you didn’t know,” he took a deep breath, “That I was dating Stalyan at the time. And, we were engaged..”

Rapunzel backed up and joined in with Cassandra in eyeing him critically. “But when you _have_ talked about previous _girlfriends_ or how you previously treated _love_ and dating, _you-_ ” Her voice cracked and she took in a gasping breath. “You didn’t think that _maybe_ information about a _previous FIANCE_ was _pertinantly related?!_ ” One hand on her hip, her other flew from her forehead out to the void.

“Rapunzel-” he gasped in shock at her outburst, and in horror knowing she was right.

“You’ve ‘broken off’ an _engagement_ before? And you’ve proposed to me _twice_ now, knowing full well that I had no idea about that?!”

“I-” He tripped over her perfectly justified accusation, and dropped any words he had prepared to defend himself, scattering them to the wind. He held one hand out ever so cautiously, hoping to hold onto her. “That second time I never actually got to _reeeally_ propose-”

“Oh, whatever!” Her arms windmilled, swiping his away. “Eug _eeene!_ Why would you keep this from me?! We said no more secrets! No more lies!” She laid her hands out before her to pantomime.

He licked his lips, and readied to at least try to explain himself. The eyes of everyone in the tent had already told him that he was even more wrong than he had already known. “Rapunzel,” he again laid a hand out toward her, and did not hide his shame as he looked into her hurt eyes. “Just listen. Please, I’m _begging you,_ please, just listen to me. I. _am._ _sorry_. I never meant to hurt you. I was _trying_ to _not_ hurt you!”

“But you DID! Were you _ever_ going to tell me? Or were you just _waiting_ for me to guess, ‘Oh, hey, Eugene. You wouldn’t _happen_ to have had any _other_ _fiances?_ ’” Everyone in the tent cringed at her voice escalating to a screech, and the truth it spoke. “Or, ‘Would this _Baron_ happen to have a daughter of eligible age, and if so, were you ever romantically involved?!”

“Rapunzel, _please!_ ” he cried out. “I know you’re mad at me, I get it, alright?!”

“I am not mad at you!” she yelled back.

He spoke over her, though, continuing. “You have every right to be furious with me! I know I’m in the wrong here. I _was_ wrong. But, _Sweetheart_ , _Honey_ , Blondie- I don’t wanna _fight_ you! I _know_ I hurt you, but _you know_ I _never_ wanna see you hurt, especially _because_ of me. And I don’t know, I guess someday, I figured I could tell you. But no, I didn't think it would ever _specifically_ just come up in conversation. But- but you’re right! It’s…” He paused to catch his breath, but Rapunzel did seem to have calmed down. He let go of her and ran his hand through his hair. “This was all my fault, and my keeping this from you since we met is why you’re hurting now. I know that. But I swear to you, everything was completely different, and awful, with her back then. Ever since I left her, there has _never_ been a doubt in my mind that I want nothing to do with her. And ever since like a year _after_ leaving, I have never even _missed_ a single thing from my time with her. Before this month, she was dead, gone, and buried to me -- which, right now, I wish she really _was_.”

His admissions and denial of the other woman brought another wave of strengthening relief over her.

Eugene continued, though now he was shaken and panicked himself. “It- It’s just that everyone already has so many reasons- _good_ reasons- that they could use to not trust me, to not want me to be with you, that I didn’t want an old _abandoned engagement_ to ever make _you_ doubt me. I was _so_ scared of you doubting me. I _am_ so scared...”

“I don’t doubt you,” she whispered back.

His brow furrowed at her with hope. “You’re right, it is something you should have known.” He shook his head, embarrassed. “I could’ve trusted you with it. I _should_ have, I’m sorry.” He picked his head up with a new train of thought. “I also just never _wanted_ to _talk_ about her, ‘cause I didn’t want to dredge up all the pain from how she treated me back when _I_ was around 18. And, I guess, I was worried about losing you - sometimes I worry so much about losing you - or at very least shaking your faith in me and making _you_ worry, when _I_ knew I would never leave you. Never willingly.”

“Well…” Rapunzel sniffled and collected her flushed face. She crossed her arms and gulped down the tears that had been on their way.

“You’re right, okay? You are _totally_ right that I should’ve told you at some point, _before_ I _ever_ proposed to you. Lance was right that I never should’ve gotten involved, or that once I wanted out, I should’ve just gone…” He trailed off, remembering both Lance’s words to him and his own words to her. ‘ _Why haven’t you ever gone before?’_ He shook his head. “But deep down, _you know_ , I have _always_ wanted a real family, so I tried to stay and I tried to make it work, but it was one-sided and I was doing a terrible job anyway. You are _all_ right and I _was_ wrong but I don’t care about that ‘cause I’m agreeing with you all now! I’m not _defending_ anything I did, just trying to explain what the hell I was thinking…” He ran his hand through his hair, still shaking his head. “ _I’m sorry,_ ” his voice trembled. “I never thought _she_ could touch my new life, not like this. But,” he choked again, “ _Thank you_. For saving me anyway.” He shook his head as his eyes fell to the ground, tears dropping from them. “ _I’m so sorry…_ ”

Rapunzel spoke slowly, while she abdicated her entire accusation. “I suppose, I understand, how that is…” Her arms fell, one hand wringing the other’s wrist.

Eugene tried to stifle smiling at how cute she looked when she was angry, at least when he knew everything would be relatively fine.

“To,” she took a deep breath, “To not even _realize_ you _should_ leave…”

His hands reached out to hold her face. “I wasn’t fair to you. You deserved to know.” He thumbed some tears away from her eyes. “Admitting I was wrong in all that is the least of my worries right now.”

She hiccupped, getting her breathing normalized again, even as tears flowed. She wiped her nose and sniffled, eyes averted. She finally brought herself to try to sound cheerful. “If you hadn’t left then, how would you have ever found me?”

A smile tugged at him. He watched her carefully, though, still worried about pulling her to him too much. _“I don’t wanna lose you like this,”_ he whispered. Suddenly her eyes darted up to his, then she pitched forward to hug him around his waist and bury her face in his chest, falling into his waiting arms once more. He collected her and held her close, rocking her side to side. He murmured on her neck just for her to hear. _“If you would ever take me back, I- I’d do anything. But I would never leave you. I would never give up on us again. And I will try to be more open and honest with you.”_

A giddy but sad chuckle rippled through her. “I just want you to come _home,_ ” Rapunzel cried into his chest, but then stood up straighter. “Yes, I’m commanding all these men here and we’re gonna take down the Baron’s crime ring once and for all, so that nobody, like you, or Lance, or Red, or Angry, _ever_ has to worry about running from him _ever_ again, and we’re gonna clean the city up and restore it to its former glory,” she took a deep shaky breath, “But I just want YOU back! Just don’t leave me-” She froze, but tried to explain in a fluster. “I mean- not like physically that you _can’t_ leave, but just _please_ don’t leave me all _alone_ \- like- _that…_ ”

He chuckled softly. “I know what you mean. I won’t.” He hugged her again and kissed her temple. “I don’t _want to-_ I _didn’t_ want to, but they got us, and, once we... Once it was _done,_ I... was _terrified_ of the thought of ever facing you ever again. I was already thinking maybe you didn’t want me, and if you even saw us like that, I thought you’d _hate_ me... ”

Rapunzel brushed her cheek along his, to peck a kiss on it, stunning him to breathless quiet once more. “I could never hate you, Eugene…” she muttered between them.

“For something like that, though, I couldn’t blame you. That’s why it was so long before I even tried to send word to you. I thought we were done for, no matter what the truth was...”

She shrugged to the side. “It did make me feel… _sick_ yesterday, to see you over with her, and I do wish you had told me about your past with her before.”

“I was sick to _be_ there,” he tried to smile to commiserate, but fell somber again. “And I know, I should have…”

She ran her hands through his thick, smooth hair, and he picked his head up to savor it. She placed a quick peck on his lips, then held his cheeks as he watched her and waited. She continued, “But you _also_ know I love you too much to not forgive you. And we made it through, didn’t we?”

With the longest sigh, his head swung back down and into her shoulder. “Thank you,” he muttered, his adrenaline still settling. He snuggled her close and kissed her neck. “Thank you, Blondie.”

“For such a small thing?” she chuckled.

“For everything,” he chuckled back.

“So?” Cassandra piped up again. “Tell us about, ‘back then,’” she air-quoted.

Eugene took a deep breath, sniffling, but happy to comply. “It was like 8 years ago. It was _not_ a healthy relationship by any standards. We’d been together for 2 years. I thought, ‘taking the next step’ would finally make her happy and _fix_ our relationship. But nothing was ever good enough for her, she always put me down, never listened to me… She is _nothing_ like you, Blondie.” He reassured her as he separated them to look in her eyes. “But, she probably is why I can now understand some of what you must’ve been going through. I know I was so focused on the _wedding_ \- back when I was 19, when I proposed to her - that I never thought of a single thing that would come after. I woke up the morning of and, uh…” He rubbed his neck. “I had cheated on her, again, with, er, _two_ of her bridesmaids. I-” He gulped. “I did that a lot, actually.”

Cassandra recoiled in disgust; Rapunzel smirked.

“I realized then, that the next morning, I’d be waking up to her, and supposedly only her, for the rest of my _life_. And suddenly, I wasn’t confident _at all_ in betting that _a wedding_ would fix anything for us. It didn’t look anything like a life I wanted for myself. I still wanted a fairy tale wedding if I could ever have it, with a big family, but constantly sleeping around behind her back, I knew, wasn’t exactly conducive to that. If I cheated after that, I’d _seriously_ be compromising any _stability_ a marriage would at least give me. I was afraid to face her, though, so I just booked it. Afraid that like, she’d actually _attack_ me. And all that came back to bite me this past month.”

Cassandra twitched. “She _attacked_ you?”

Eugene rolled his eyes and groaned. “Yes, Cass. You of all people should know women can fight, too, and it’s not like I could even _try_ to fight back too much this past month - they still had Lance and the guys-”

“Consummated?” Cassandra seemed more volatile as she asked for clarification.

Eugene bit both his lips down together, and nodded. He grimaced and full on ugly-cried for a moment. “ _Yes,_ ” he regretfully confirmed.

Rapunzel gasped and covered her mouth as she stepped back.

His attention darted back to her as he gasped in turn. Witnessing her understanding of that word sank another pile of rocks atop his stomach and tore down every protective wall around his mind. “But I don’t remember anything!” he urgently continued, directed at Rapunzel. “She said I was so drunk and came onto her- but I don’t remember-”

She blinked wide-eyed at him. “ _Wha-t…_ ” She tried to get her own voice to work as her head spun listening to his frantic pleas.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t _mean_ to!” He desperately resecured Rapunzel’s hands in his. “I’d never blacked out before, but I do know I _was_ _trying_ to drink a lot, because I _didn’t_ wanna be there, I didn’t wanna deal with her. So if there’s any truth to that, then I- I- I dunno. I mean, I thought I was fine with us waiting; but maybe part of me...” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“ _Eu_ gene-” her small voice cracked in horror, reliving that night of having lost him all over again. And she was not so sure she wanted to hear the other side anymore.

“We’d slept together years ago when we were ‘together,’ but now? I’ve only wanted you, I didn’t want any of this, but I had no choice; I couldn’t stop her.” Her only response was to look at him in apprehension, but at the information, not him. He, however, could not tell and kept begging. “But that first night please, Rapunzel, _please-_ I don’t know what came over me, I don’t know what happened, but please believe me that _I_ , **I** didn’t want _any_ of this! I don’t remember the first night, but every night after that, I know she had to force me to-” He froze, and hesitated. “Except, last night I,” he gulped. “I did it to trick her into a false sense of security, to get her guard down. Make them think I didn’t even _want_ to conspire with you guys, because, I mean obviously, we were...”

Rapunzel stared at him, dumbfounded and not sure _what_ to even try to say.

He heard the sheen of Cassandra unsheathing her sword, and his panic doubled. “Whoa whoa whoa, Cass! Cass, wait!” he yelled, full on nauseous now.

“Cass!” Rapunzel screamed as she noted her advance. She whirled around to block Eugene, and allowed him when he pulled her backward against his chest, crouching and hiding behind her armor again out of his own fear.

“Blondie--! Cass! I didn’t mean to cheat this time! I didn’t want to! And I _am_ _with_ you guys!”

“Not _you,_ Fitzherbert,” she assured him even as she marched toward where they stood in front of the entry/exit flap. A tremble returned, his heart reminding him of such fear in pace with her advance. Cassandra continued explaining, “Doesn’t matter if you’re a _man_ , or if you’re _married_. This bitch…” She stepped up close to the couple, and lowered her voice. “She _raped_ you, Eugene.”

Rapunzel gasped with both hands over her mouth this time at hearing the actual term, and at the confirmation that yet another of Gothel’s awful scary things had actually happened to her big, brave, strong hero.

Eugene recoiled in disgust at the word itself. “But once we were married, I mean-”

“So what?!” Cassandra threw her free arm up. “You didn’t wanna _marry_ her either! And _Fitzherbert,_ if you and Raps were married and one night she didn’t want you to touch her, what would you do? Touch her anyway?! Come on, you may steal _my_ _things_ when I say ‘No,’ but even _I_ know you’re better than _that_.”

The couple caught shy glances to each other again. Tentatively, he glanced to Cassandra, too, but gave his easy but quiet answer down to her sword. “I wouldn’t touch her…” He shook his head as he put it all together. “I’ve never done that- I never would. To anyone. But,” he looked back to her, confused again, “I’m the _guy_...”

“ _Again_ ,” she rolled her shoulders, “So _what?!_ Did you want it?”

“Well...” _I obviously got hard enough and came… And I know I clearly really liked it back when we used to do it all the time…_ He turned red and looked away. “I…”

“Did you tell her ‘No?’”

He whipped back for this defense. “Yeah! I mean I _tried_ , I think, but…”

“Eugene,” Cassandra said with a calm and level voice, as she laid her free right hand on his shoulder, “Did. You. _Want_. To have sex with her?”

“ _No!_ ” he suddenly cried, his face breaking apart again. “I didn’t! I didn’t want any part of this! I HATE her and I NEVER wanted to see her again and I didn’t CARE how long it’d been since-!” His hand subconsciously went out to gesture toward the current subject of his desires.

At his outburst, however, Rapunzel began leaning away to give him space.

He watched her step away from him though, and so he continued doubling down. “I-” He glanced around at their audience, but dove in anyway as his face and voice crumbled. “Rapunzel I don’t care however long you want to wait, I _never_ wanted this. I know- I _have known_ you _need_ to wait. I _chose_ this; I _chose_ to wait, _knowing_ it might be years. I _never_ wanted to cheat on you-...” He covered his mouth as his lungs forced in a deep but staggering breath, unable to continue, in disbelief he had to say these words to _her_.

Rapunzel finally jumped to and rushed back in, grabbing hold of his arm. “Eugene- Eugene,” she cringed at his pain, her face still red with nerves and embarrassment. She moved one hand to his heart, keeping her other on his back to hold him there. “Eugene, it’s okay. Breathe. Just breathe for me.” She transferred her hands to his face, refocusing his eyes to her.

His hands loosely held her wrists there on him. “I’m sorry, Blondie,” he hyperventilated, “I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you like this- I- I was just trying to- to-to-to-”

“ _Eugene_ ,” she gently but firmly interrupted. “You did _nothing_ wrong. So there is nothing to forgive! However she did it- she forced you, against your will. Right? _Right?_ ” she prompted him.

He winced and nodded in her hands, feeling faint. He closed his eyes tight, but saw flashes of those nights. _Don’t leave me--_ Even in the summer heat and stifling tent, he felt a chill run through him as his body remembered what being lonely in the dead of winter had meant for him all the rest of his life, before her. _Please--_

“Okay then. It’s okay now. It wasn’t your fault. Alright,” she calmly soothed, running her hands over and over his cheeks. “I believe you, alright? I trust you.”

“If someone says ‘no,’ then-” Eugene’s eyes widened slowly, and he did not realize until that moment, that he could not defend it as anything less. _Stalyan,_ raped _me…?_ He shivered again, this time shaking the feel of her off of him; a feeling that had never been welcome in the first place. He took a step closer, right up against Rapunzel, feeling his sense of safety and security increase as he did so. They just held each other awhile, as he calmed down, and regained his strength from her.

She brushed the back of just one of her fingers up along his cheek. “Eugene?”

The trace of a smile turned up on his mouth, but it did reach his eyes, as he met her gaze. “Girls…” His breathing caught up to him and he came to a woozy peace along with his mind.

“We’re _right_ here for you,” Cassandra’s grip on her sword tightened.

“Eugene,” Rapunzel cried, “Whatever happened-” They held the painful gaze. “You can talk to me about anything, whenever you feel up to it. I believe you. _She hurt you-_ but _I am here_ for you. I will _always_ be here for you. And it wasn’t your fault.”

“Some things were my fault,” he nodded, then shook his head. “But no, I never wanted to even _see_ her again. And as drunk as I’ve ever been, that’s never happened before, where I blacked out and kept doing things like I apparently did. I’ve only ever just passed out asleep, and never with memory problems.”

“Still not your fault,” Cassandra repeated. “You had no agency in it.”

Eugene shrugged, conceding her point. “Well, and I certainly know…” He hung his head and pursed his lips, but locked eyes with Rapunzel. “I would _never_ , under _any_ circumstance, ever _want_ to cheat on you, Rapunzel.”

Rapunzel averted her eyes, embarrassed at the mere inference of what this type of “cheating” meant, but her smile deepened at his devotion.

“I can’t even imagine ever _thinking_ about that, but,” he sighed. They switched, with him now holding both her cheeks in his palms, and hers on his wrists; she nearly closed her eyes as she beamed. He continued. “But if I really did do any of that on my own, like she said, then all I can do is _beg_ you for mercy. You don’t even have to _ever_ forgive me for any of this- To me, I can barely explain it, but it _feels_ unforgivable.” He could not help but smile sadly as he went on. “Princess or not, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just, _don't want_ anyone else.” _Even with ‘waiting,’ just, no one else._

Eugene's attention drifted back specifically to Rapunzel's soft eyes, round cheekbones, and pale lips. His unconsciously parted. _You couldn't be mean if you tried, Blondie…_ But then they snapped shut in a pout. _And you still- ‘want’ me?_

Rapunzel noticed his attention on her, and met his eyes again. She watched him gazing upon her; he looked like he was waiting for her to make it all better. “Eugene, I don't _blame_ you for any of this. Now that we know what happened, even- even with whatever happened that first night like you said, I’m not- I just,” She felt his fingers tighten against her face. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into his touch, then looked him right back in the eye. “Eugene,” a hand flew up to his cheek-

He flinched.

She froze and retreated, before she even touched him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he smiled, with a deep breath, and shook it off. “What were you going to say?”

She eyed him carefully, slowly placing her hand on him, to tenderly cup his cheek. “I just, don’t think it can count as cheating if you had no choice. I- I mean, I may be hurting a little too, still, but it’s not from you. I have felt insanely jealous over this woman, but...” she gritted her teeth.

“But I don’t want her,” he blurted. “ _None_ of this has had _anything_ to do with my feelings _changing_ or whatever- they haven’t changed about _her_ in eight years! And certainly not about you in the past month.”

“I know,” she smiled sweetly. “But regardless of anything else, any jealousy I’ve been feeling is my own to deal with.”

He nodded, but licked his lips and looked down.

Lance interjected softly, “If I may-” The couple looked to him to speak. “Your Highness,” he smiled to her, but clasped Eugene’s shoulder. “This guy, _did nothing_ ,” he earned a giggle from Rapunzel, “But mope around all month, and cry about how much he missed you.”

Rapunzel smiled, locking eyes with a shy Eugene, and looking to continue uplifting his spirits with setting things right. “And about your _proposal-_ ”

“No, not after this.” He shook his head.

“What?” she leaned away in shock, dropping her hand from his face.

“I said before, as long as we’re still alright, that’s all I want.” He shook his head again, but remained happy even as he refused this. “I just got a big taste of how marriage _can_ feel so awful, like a prison sentence. And I don’t want _her_ to be the _reason_ you say yes. I don’t want _this_ to be our story, I don’t want you to be _clouded_ by fear of losing me. It didn’t destroy us after your coronation, and it didn’t destroy us last month. So, just, please. Don’t worry about any of that until we’re on the same page. Not until _you_ are sure you’re ready.”

She blushed deeply, and could only coo out a shy, “Mmm, _alright..._ ”

Eugene smiled the most loving knowing smile at her. “I _love you,_ with _all_ my heart,” he gathered her hands and pulled them to his chest. “And nothing will ever change that.”

“I know, Eugene,” she smiled her brightest smile at him. “And I love you, too, with all _my_ heart.”

“This is our Dream to share, _my Blondie._ ” His fingers ran over hers, welcoming them to stay. “Always and forever. Because we _both_ want it.”

~The End~

 

* * *

_Epilogue yet to come..._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Omg I finished something! ...I hate how the whole 2nd half was just ONE emo conversation… Seriously, this whole thing is 40 pages and that was 20 pages of it. Anyway… Yay! The show’s quick redemption of Stalyan certainly didn’t feel right to me, but I guess they wanted to shoehorn in a “You can be amicable with your partner’s ex!” moral. Uhhh, not after BTCW you can’t!
> 
> & NO, I am not trying to compare _Stalyan_ to _Daenerys_ , but I loved _Jon’s_ desperation in his groveling, and I can only hope he didn’t feel himself in the same situation. Those writers might be trying to make Daenerys into Stalyan, however, and boy I am not here for that.
> 
> OH! And hey! We’re finally officially married!!!


End file.
